


You will only love me

by NoaLowe



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betaed, Blood and Violence, Feral Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Feral Lambert, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Scent Kink, Scenting, Smut, Soulmates, Werewolves, i'm not english
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 37,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24291028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoaLowe/pseuds/NoaLowe
Summary: "An agonizing silence had fallen over the city. Fear clenched at her guts. There was something in the dark. Something dangerous. Something deadly. She felt it in her bones. A growl just behind her was the only warning she received before a violent blow struck her in the back, sending her brutally to the ground, breathing cut short. The beast snarled and turned her on her back brutally. Faced with the nightmare that had caught her, the young woman screamed."A violent murder darkens this early spring in Novigrad. Local authorities call at the World Intelligence and Tactical Commando of Hunters and Elite Research, aka W.I.T.C.H.E.R. to help them resolve the case.Colonel de Rivia, his partner Yennefer of Vengerberg as well as Captain Lambert Dewrin and his partner Cirilla Rhiannon de Rivia are in charge of the investigation.And when the young musician Jaskier was involved in their case, things became particularly complicated for the colonel with an attraction neither can deny.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 168
Kudos: 307
Collections: The Witcher Alternate Universes





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank Pepper for her wonderful work as a beta-reader!

Oh, it was _so_ late. Emilia winced. Her dad was going to be very mad at her if she wasn’t home in the next twenty minutes. Although she was nearly twenty years old, her father treated her as if she were still eight. It should have been annoying, but she was aware that the outside world was dangerous and he was just worried about her. Well... Living in a world where you could encounter a werewolf or vampire was a dangerous one.

This night she had stayed to chat with a work colleague. The restaurant had emptied quite late and when David offered her a drink, she agreed. She was tired, had sore feet and this short break had been welcome. Now, she was late.

She took a look at her cellphone. 1 am. Oh God! Her dad was probably worried sick. She quickened her pace.

The streets of Novigrad were emptied at the time of the night. Sometimes a cat was meowing or the bark of a dog resounded in the night silence.

Nothing strange.

She was no longer very far from Tregor's Gate when she felt a change in the air. It was nearly nothing, just an impression, but a shiver ran through her spine. As if someone was watching her in the dark.

“Hello?”

She tried to see despite the shadows that surrounded her. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She shrugged, her father's paranoia was starting to hit her. She giggled and set off again. But the feeling that someone was looking at her refused to let go.

She stopped.

“Hello? Is someone there?” She tried again.

She listened carefully to the noise of the night and she understood why she’s feeling uneasy. There was no more noise. No meowing or barking. An agonizing silence had fallen over the city. Fear clenched at her guts. There was something in the dark. Something dangerous. Something deadly. She felt it in her bones.

Her home was two streets from her current location. She was tired but she had always been good at running. It was probably just her tired mind, but like her father always said: _better be safe than sorry_. She took a deep breath and ran like death was on her heels.

A loud howling tore the silent night.

She screamed, terrified.

Her blood was drumming in her ears, her heart pounded so hard that she had trouble breathing. Tears were running down her cheeks as she ran as fast as she could. The sound of another’s footsteps racing behind her made her scream again. Whatever was chasing her, it was faster than she was.

Her hand was clenched on her phone.

Her father!

If her father came to meet her maybe she would have a chance to make it out alive.

A new hope bloomed in her chest.

She pressed the shortcut key, and the next few seconds seemed to last forever for the poor girl.

“Emilia? What’s going on?”

Hearing her father’s voice, Emilia cried.

“Dad! Please!” she whimpered, “help me!”

A growl just behind her was the only warning she received before a violent blow struck her in the back, sending her brutally to the ground, breathing cut short. Her phone escaped her as a heavy weight fell on her.

She tried to scream as she heard her father calling for her but the thing on her back kept her from breathing.

“Emilia! Where are you?”

Her eyes widened when she felt something wet against her neck. She dared not move, no longer make the slightest sound. He sniffed at her, his nose wandering over her skin.

A low growl made her whimper in terror.

"Dad."

The beast snarled and turned her on her back brutally. Faced with the nightmare that had caught her, the young woman screamed.

"Emilia! EMILIA!"

Huge claws tore through her stomach, and the pain made her gasp.

So much pain that she couldn't even breathe. Her body twitched as she gasped for some air, choking on her own mute cries.

Black dots appeared in front of her eyes, and the metallic taste of blood invaded her mouth. She trembled harder and harder and suddenly the pain was gone.

A howl echoed through the night as the poor girl died on the sidewalk.

*

Jaskier was listening to the TV as he was eating his breakfast. The young man hated silence. Since he lived alone, the TV was good enough when he couldn’t sing. Truly, he watched it only in the mornings. The rest of the time, he listened to music. But in the mornings, he wasn’t awake enough to appreciate the melodies.

The weather forecast predicted a beautiful spring day. A good thing for Jaskier whose job was to animate the biggest square of Novigrad, in the middle of the merchant stands.

Graduated from Oxenfurt’s University the previous year with honors, the young man preferred the simple and somewhat boorish life of a street artist. He was young and had no responsibility which required him to find a permanent job. Next year he planned on wandering around the Continent, looking for inspiration and fame. For now, he was saving to buy a small car for his journey.

After he finished his breakfast, he went to take a shower and got ready to leave.

Returning to the living room, he had swapped his pajamas for an outfit inspired by traditional costumes of the Brokilon Forest. As a half-elf, Jaskier liked to highlight his slender figure and his exotic charm. He was beautiful and he knew it.

The TV hummed the news idly in the background.

"A body was discovered near the Tregor Gate. Authorities refuse to raise the possibility of a monster killing in the city, but rumors have been of mutilation onto the victim."

Jaskier shivered.

The same kind of thing happened in Oxenfurt when he was in his second year. If his memory was correct, the cops never got their hands on the killer. But he could be wrong, he wasn't interested in this kind of thing, he was too sensitive to bear it.

"Emilia Kuntz was a waitress with Rosemary and Thyme, a cabaret in Glory Lane District…"

Jaskier was no longer listening. A photo of the young woman was displayed on the screen.

"Fuck."

He knew the victim. It often happened to him to take a drink at Rosemary and Thyme after work and Emilia was one of the prettiest waitresses. They often flirted and even ended up sleeping together about a week ago. The young woman was recovering badly from her boyfriend's infidelity, and she needed someone to cheer her up. Jaskier was a lover of Love of all kinds, and he offered himself with pleasure.

It was easy to ignore the presence of a killer in the city, as he had when he’d been in Oxenfurt when it hadn’t affected him. Emilia was a friend.

A certain uneasiness contracted his chest. With a sudden gesture, he turned off the TV.

"Maybe I should go see the police," he whispered, taking his keys and his lute.

He shook his head. Besides the trouble with his boyfriend, he knew nothing more that would help the police. If they ever looked for information, he would go to see them.

He left while promising to go to Rosemary and Thyme at the end of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments and your kudos.

Kaer Morhen was a huge fortress in the North Mountain. For a long time, Kaer Morhen was a secret place known only to initiates. Today, the fortress housed the World Intelligence and Tactical Commando of Hunters and Elite Research, aka W.I.T.C.H.E.R.

Experts in the matters of monsters, these genetically modified men, and women were the last bulwark between civilization and chaos. Many rumors run about the Witchers and the people who accompanied them. Hard, soulless, unable to experience feelings, they are programmed to kill. Most people fear them and the authorities are reluctant to call on them.

The Kaer Morhen fortress was the most impressive on the Continent. Even Cintra's, which had been a fortified town since its construction, didn't reach the size of Kaer Morhen. Built on a mountainside, in one of the widest and least accessible valleys of the Continent, the fortress housed within it no less than two thousand people. At the foot of the fortress, the town of Kaer Morhen sheltered all the secondary personnel as well as the family of field agents. The valley, as much as the fortress, was impregnable.

Some had tried when the Witchers' council demanded a treaty with the various countries to clarify the rights and duties of their agents across the continent. This treaty gave field agents full power over local authorities in cases concerning a monster and the city that received them owed them food and lodging. It also guaranteed an annual payment from each country in payment for services rendered. The treaty had been signed over a hundred years ago now and all countries respected it.

Few agents were known by the general public. Everyone knew Kaer Morhen's spokesperson: Triss Merigold, a magnificent redhead who charmed anyone who spoke with her. Sometimes the second in command of the intervention forces, Lieutenant-Colonel Eskel de Brün, did a public appearance in the event of a major intervention.

However, it was the commander of the intervention forces, Colonel Geralt de Rivia, who caused the most sensation. During the elimination of a vampire nest not far from Vizima, a reporter had gotten too close to the action and had almost died. Without the intervention of Colonel de Rivia, who had grabbed him with one arm, the journalist wouldn't have had the opportunity to talk about his experience. The colonel was the hero of social networks for two months, his hard but attractive face having traveled around the world. His stubborn silence ended this hour of involuntary glory. However, he remained the dream of a number of young women, and every six months or so, a newspaper in need of sales tried to get an interview with the colonel.

Lieutenant-Colonel Eskel de Brün could have been handsome. Without the dreadful scar in the shape of a half-moon which crossed his entire right side of his face and his long black hair, Eskel looked like it could be mistaken for his chief, Colonel de Rivia.

Like every morning, he was at his desk, going through the reports of the interventions in progress. He always kept an eye on his troops, hoping to avoid as much loss as possible. Fighting monsters was not an easy job and good preparation and good logistics were the keys to success.

The computer open on the desk rang abruptly.

Eskel groaned.

This ring meant a new case and he already had too many. Spring was always more hectic than the rest of the year. A good part of the monsters hibernated and in the spring, they woke up, hungry.

He left the report he was reading and opened the mail. The latter reported strange attacks on Novigrad. Two files accompanied the email. The first was the medical examiner's report. At the sight of the wounds depicted in the sketch, Eskel knew it was a case for a witcher. It was too much like clawing to have been done by a man. The other was a three-year police report on events in Oxenfurt.

“Fuck.”

The Oxenfurt affair remained painful. They had lost an agent in this werewolf case and no one had managed to get their hands on it. Overnight the murders stopped for no apparent reason, preventing Geralt, who had taken over the business after Coën's death, from catching the culprit.

Eskel looked at what time it was. 10.12 Am. At this time, Geralt was to be in the inner courtyard to supervise the melee training. Colonel as he was, Geralt had never left active duty and trained daily with the rest of his men.

The witcher hesitated to discuss the new case with Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt's mage duo, before going to find him. The Oxenfurt’s case was a thorn in Geralt’s side and the presence of the witch could make the discussion less difficult. But the latter hated being disturbed the morning she spent in her laboratory and Eskel was not suicidal.

Without having much choice, Eskel joined the inner courtyard. It resounded with the sound of swords clashing. They rarely used the blades in combat, but the Colonel had insisted that field officers were able to use any weapon at their disposal. That fact that the sword was Geralt's favorite weapon had nothing to do with this decision.

The lieutenant colonel watched the dance before him for a moment. The witchers were genetically modified men and women. Their inhuman speed, their increased agility made their movement deadly and fascinating. While being a witcher himself, Eskel couldn't help but admire Geralt's animal grace. He wasn't a Colonel out of a taste for power, but because he was the best fighter among them.

Dressed in regulatory Kevlar armor, he’d evolved with magnificent efficiency in the midst of his men, sending them one by one to the ground.

Suddenly, he disappeared. Without his improved vision, Eskel wouldn't have been able to avoid the blow that would have hit him a few seconds later.

A fierce smile answered his parade.

"What are you doing here?" Geralt asked him after he had told his men to continue without him with a single gesture.

"A case. For you."

"Ah?"

"We better talk about it in your office."

Geralt nodded sharply.

"Aiden! You're taking the lead," he barked loudly.

"Yes, sir!"

The colonel winced. He still had so much trouble with the marks of respect due to his rank.

Eskel hid an amused smile and followed Geralt to his office.

"So?" he asked when he was seated.

"You should call Yennefer, it'll save me from having to repeat my presentation."

Geralt raised an eyebrow but followed his friend's recommendation. He called the witch. When she picked up the phone, Geralt pulled the phone away from his ear, wincing. The young woman yelled her dissatisfaction into the poor device.

"Can I know what you want with me at this hour?! Shouldn't you be having fun with the others in the yard? Some people are working, I remind you!"

When she was finished, Geralt was finally able to give his order.

"Come into my office, we have a case."

She hung up without answering, but the sigh she exalted didn't escape him.

"She's on the way."

The witch stormed in a few minutes later, beautiful as always, molded into a bespoke kevlar outfit.

"What is so important that you jeopardize my work reducing the poisoning of your damn potions?" She gasped as soon as she entered.

Yennefer was a beautiful brunette, with long wavy hair, framing a face of almost perfect proportions. Her unique purple eyes were on the colonel and if a look could kill, he would be dead instantly.

"Don't be so dramatic, Yen. Triss can handle five minutes on her own."

Yennefer looked down at him.

"You don't know anything about it. Well, what's the emergency? The sooner we finish here, the more I can make up for the damage."

Geralt motioned for Eskel to start.

The latter grabbed his tablet and with a gesture brought up the sketch of the medical examiner on the screen that covered the wall behind Geralt.

"I received this this morning. It comes from the Novigrad police. They have a case of a werewolf. And according to their report there might be some interesting similarity to …"

Eskel stopped talking. Geralt had just stood up and was examining the wounds carefully.

"Oxenfurt."

"Yes."

Yennefer also approached the screen.

"Are you serious? After three years?"

"That's what Novigrad cops think."

"Hmm."

Eskel expected a more excessive reaction from the colonel. He didn't have a particularly difficult temper, but sometimes when he got angry it was better not to stick around.

"What do we do?"

"Tell Novigrad that we're coming tomorrow. Yen, you're coming with me. Also tell Lambert and Ciri that they will be there too."

"Yes, sir!"

Geralt winced.

"Not you, please."

Yennefer smiled and winked at Eskel.

"I'm going to get ready."

The young woman went out, leaving them alone.

"You're in charge from tomorrow."

"I expected that."

"Send me the full report."

Eskel nodded and went out too.

In front of the screen, Geralt's face closed. His golden eyes began to shine with ill-contained anger. This time, he wouldn't let anything or anyone stop him from stopping this monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had enjoyed this chapter.  
> See you tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! I have a tumblr. I'm not very active but you can find me @noalowe ;)

It was a strange thing to witness. As Jaskier settled at his usual place on the square, just in front of the Vivaldi bank, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A bloody murder had taken place the same night in another part of the city and no one seemed to care.

The young man couldn't help but glance around like the killer was among the people in the square.

He may be...

Who could know?

It was the most terrifying thing about the whole story. There was a killer in Novigrad and it could be his neighbor.

Despite all his good will, he kept in mind that he had known the last victim. What if it wasn't a random crime?

He opened his lute's crate, left it open, and, after taking a deep breath to get rid of his anxieties, began to sing.

Like every day, the start of his performance didn’t attract many people. A few of the bank's clients left him a coin or two, but nothing more. He often had to play until noon before seeing a few passersby crowding around him to listen to the music. He mainly played the tunes that went on the radio, the ones that everyone knew. That was why he was paid. The trade union of the businesses of the Hierarch square thought the presence of a street artist would attract more people. Jaskier was careful not to confuse them, it was his livelihood after all.

But today, he was having trouble putting on the same energy as usual. The story of the killer tapped him and left him with a vague unpleasant impression.

People felt that something was wrong. After lunch, he hadn’t made half his usual.

Disgusted, Jaskier decided to stop for the day. He generally made more hours than asked and today he knew it would be wasted time.

A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped, letting out a slight cry. He turned around, ready to yell at the jerk who had scared him and fell face to face with one of his ex-boyfriends: Valdo Marx.

The surprise to see him in Novigrad left him speechless.

"Oh! The great Jaskier who doesn't know what to say, I'm touched," mocked his former comrade from Oxenfurt gently.

His story with Valdo was classic. They had done their classes together in Oxenfurt. They had the same interests, the same circles of friends and to make matters worse, Valdo was handsome. Together until the end of their studies, their paths were simply separated. Valdo had returned home to Cidaris to play court and Jaskier had preferred the street in Novigrad.

“What are you doing here?” Jaskier asked as he set his lute in its case before hugging him.

“I found a better job a month ago here in Novigrad.”

For the first time of the day, a genuine smile flourished on Jaskier’s lips as he forgot the killer’s story.

“Really? What good news! We have to celebrate!”

His friend winced.

“Not now, I have to go but later?”

“Yeah, sure! Tomorrow? At 7 pm, the Passiflora?”

Valdo nodded and took his phone out of his pocket.

"Give me your number. I'll text you when I’m there?"

“Sure.”

The young man typed the numbers onto Valdo’s phone. Valdo took it back and texted him right away.

“Your treat?” He asked as he was walking away.

“Sure! Don’t be late!”

What a pleasant surprise after the disaster morning.

Jaskier was still a little in love with Valdo. Although he refused his offer to follow him to Cidaris, it had been his longest and happiest relationship. So the idea of starting over wasn’t too displeasing to him.

This meeting had the effect of appeasing the young man and therefore, he brought out his lute and began to sing again for the pleasure of passersby.

At the end of the day, he went to Rosemary and Thyme. The atmosphere was as sad as expected. Emilia had been appreciated by her colleagues and patrons. At the counter he found Priscilla, a young woman whom he had met on his arrival in Novigrad and had become friends with.

"Hey, how are you?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

The young woman looked at him, red eyes and traces of tears on her pale cheeks.

"Not good. Emilia was my friend."

"I know. Did you talk to the cops?"

She nodded weakly.

"They wanted to know if—if she had problems with someone, that kind of thing."

In front of her a half-empty glass of beer was waiting, abandoned. He raised his hand, signaling to the waiter that he wanted a beer too.

"Did you tell them about Vilmud?"

Priscilla shrugged.

"Why do it? They had problems, but he's a good guy."

Jaskier did not insist. After all, Prisc knew them better than he did. If she thought Emilia's boyfriend was beyond suspicion, he could trust her.

They spent a good part of the evening drinking and talking about their friend. At one point, Prisc sang a beautiful ballad in her honor, a new composition that Jaskier had never heard.

Priscilla was a wonderful singer. She was beautiful with her long blond hair and pretty blue eyes; her voice was like gold. Jaskier was convinced that if she decided one day, she could record an album and have a long and fruitful career.

At the end of the evening, he offered to accompany her back.

"No, it's nice of you, but I need to be a little lonely."

"Are you sure? There's a monster outside."

Prisc sneered sadly.

"He ate last night, little chance he would attack tonight."

She kissed him on the cheek and walked away, a little shaky. The idea of leaving her alone didn't please him, but he was not used to imposing himself where he wasn't wanted.

A few minutes later, a man took the place of the young woman.

"Were you a friend of Emilia's?"

Jaskier looked up from his tankard.

The man was young, rather attractive and his smile and his look spoke volumes about what he thought of Jaskier. He smiled in turn, a little company would be welcome tonight.

"Yes, I was. You?"

"We grew up together."

Jaskier winced.

"I am sorry for your loss."

Their needs being obvious, they didn't discuss long before finishing their beer and leaving the cabaret together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you have a good time reading this chapter.  
> See you tomorrow ;)


	4. Chapter 4

A thick fog hung over the city when a magic portal opened right in the middle of Hierarch Square. The merchants were beginning to install their goods on their stalls and watched with interest and fear as four people stepped out.

Appreciative murmurs arose in the tense silence in front of the two beautiful young women and the two solid men who accompanied them until one of them, the one with short black hair, let his cat's eyes run on the place.

"Witchers, monsters, abomination..."

There were just whispers, no one was crazy enough to stand up against witchers and their accompanying witches. Nevertheless, Geralt and Lambert heard them perfectly. It didn't matter, they were used to this kind of reaction and they no longer paid attention to it.

Ciri, on the other hand, pursed her lips. In addition to being Lambert's partner, she was Geralt's adopted daughter, and this kind of insult, she bore... But she had learned over time that it was better not to react. So she contented herself with looking disdainfully at the inhabitants of Novigrad.

Lambert sniffed.

"What do we begin with?"

"The morgue," replied Geralt in a growl.

Ciri nodded to the east.

"It's over there."

The young woman took the lead in their group. Cirilla, called Ciri, was a young woman in her twenties. Daughter of a couple who had been W.I.T.C.H.E.R. agents who’d died on the field when she was only three years old, she had been adopted by Geralt, her father's best friend. Naturally, she had followed the path of her tutor. But unlike her dream as a little girl, she hadn't become a witcher. Her masters quickly realized that she had powers and directed her towards magic. However, she had followed the witchers' training program too. She bore both the title of witcher and witch. Because of her success and also because she was linked to the colonel, no witcher had agreed to be her partner except Lambert.

Captain Lambert Dewrin was a special case. Sentenced to death at thirteen for the murder of his father, the judge had left him the choice: the gallows or engage in the W.I.T.C.H.E.R. The boy had chosen death. And it had been so till the day before his execution when Geralt himself came to find the boy in his cell. The witcher had found a kid haunted by deep anger and broken by life. His body had as many scars as his soul and he expected nothing anymore, from anyone. Death then seemed to him a deliverance.

Geralt had simply asked him to put his life at his disposal. If he didn't want it anymore, he could do something with it. And the Witchers always needed men and women ready to sacrifice themselves.

Lambert had accepted and his trust had never been betrayed. So when Ciri found herself without a partner, he volunteered. Protecting the daughter of the one who saved his life was the least he could do for Geralt.

They were walking in loose formation. Ciri in front, just behind her Yennefer and the two men were on the sides, their senses awakened.

"Do you smell something?" Yen asked Geralt.

"No. The sea is too close. It saturates the air."

If Geralt didn't feel anything wrong, you don't need to ask Lambert. He was good but no one was as good as the colonel.

For his part, the captain was watching people. He had enough experience to know that when witchers landed in a place, monsters, whether they were looking for them or not, tended to panic. Anyway, a number of monsters were harmless to the population and the witchers left them alone. However, having a mole in Novigrad’s monstrous population could be interesting.

They came to a large stone arch with a solid metal door.

The young woman pushed the door and led them to a glass double door.

"It's here," Ciri informed them before knocking on the door.

A man with light eyes and brown hair thrown back appeared behind the door. He had the tired face of those who saw horror daily.

He watched them for a moment before opening the door wider for them.

"Witchers. I guess you're here for the poor girl. Follow me."

"I have never seen such injuries," he told them as he led them into the autopsy room. "I'll bet my diploma that it's not the work of a human being. You have to know about it or you wouldn't be here, would you?"

The victim was stored in the refrigerated cabinet. He opened one of the many doors on the wall and pulled out the drawer.

Yennefer then took the pathologist by the arm and led him elsewhere in the room while the other three leaned over the corpse. Geralt pulled out the sheet that covered her.

"Fuck! He didn't miss her," muttered Lambert, discovering the wounds.

The young woman was disfigured. Much of her face had been torn off with claws, leaving her only one eye and part of her mouth. The lower jaw and one ear were missing.

The werewolf was visibly fierce on her face.

"Like in Oxenfurt," commented Geralt, frowning.

The same kind of injuries had been suffered on the chest. Her breasts were in tatters, the belly was open in two to the pubis.

"You can see the werewolf claw marks, but they are strange, right?" Ciri noted as she followed the wound on the stomach with her finger.

"What are you thinking?" asked Lambert.

"I don't really know. It’s as if they aren’t attacked wounds, but perfectly deliberate blows. See what I mean?"

Lambert nodded.

It wasn't the attack of a furious beast, but one of a human being transformed into one.

"Hmm."

"What do you think, dad?"

"That if you are right, it isn't a random attack, but a murder. We need to talk with the police officers in charge of the case and the Oxenfurt dossier must be re-examined.”

He pulled the sheet up over the victim and pushed the drawer back into place before closing it.

Ciri was right. The wounds of the victims of Oxenfurt hadn’t been so clean. At the time, he was persuaded to chase a young werewolf driven mad by the curse. Even though there was the possibility that it was two different attackers, the damage to the face was significant. Werewolves generally attacked a specific area of the body. From one victim to another, they found the same marks. There was no need for molding of the wounds to determine if it was the work of a werewolf or another one.

Yennefer joined them at the door.

"So? Anything interesting?"

"Hmm."

The witch cast an ironic glance at her partner.

"Words, Geralt, otherwise I read your mind."

The colonel grunted.

"Explain your idea, Ciri."

The young woman obeyed. She described the wounds to the witch who grimaced in horror and what she deduced from it.

Lambert paced silently behind them, thoughtful.

He hadn't participated in the hunt at Oxenfurt, but it seemed inconceivable that a simple werewolf could have escaped the colonel.

"What if it weren't a werewolf?" He said suddenly before he even really thought about it.

Geralt turned around, frowning.

"You saw the wounds."

"Yes, and Ciri finds them strange too."

Lambert supported Geralt's inquisitive look and it wasn't that easy. His intense gaze ran right through and nothing escaped him. Lambert had nothing to hide, especially not from his colonel.

"Hmm."

Lambert smiled proudly. Geralt might as well have told him "Good idea, boy" and it wouldn't have made a difference.

The two witches stopped and Yennefer looked at her partner over her shoulder. In her eyes, he could read a question, only one:  _ What the fuck is going on? _

Geralt shook his head. He had no idea.

"Let's go take a look at the crime scene," said Yennefer instead, "and then go see the police, I can't wait to see what shabby inn they're going to try to put us in."


	5. Chapter 5

Jaskier didn't appear in his usual place until afternoon. The night was short and pleasant in the arms of Emilia's childhood friend. They had talked about her at breakfast and the man thanked him for allowing him a distraction.

When he got to Hierarch Square, people were only talking about the arrival of the two witchers and their witches that morning.

"No kidding? Did I miss that?"

It had been an event. And obviously he didn't take it in the same way as the others. He was excited to see a witcher. Unlike the majority of people, Jaskier believed that the W.I.T.C.H.E.R. did an amazing job. He always listened to Triss Merigold - what a beautiful woman - when she appeared on TV news and he found Lieutenant-Colonel Eskel particularly attractive. But his romantic heart had been secretly beating for Colonel de Rivia since that incredible rescue story. He was just a teenager when it happened, but who wouldn't have fallen for such a hero?

He had only spoken of his little secret to one person: his cousin on his mother's side, Iorveth. A little older than him, Iorveth had been his confidant when he only had sisters.

Even Valdo was unaware of his little crush on the witcher. He felt so like an idiot every time he thought of him he had butterflies in his stomach. It was so stupid when he’d never even met the person in question.

And the day he could have met a witcher, he had preferred to stay in his bed.

What bad luck!

“You heard the news?”

Priscilla had just arrived at his side.

"Yes, thank you for reminding me that I am the least fortunate guy in the world."

The young woman chuckled.

Jaskier smiled. She looked better than she had the day before. He was even happy to make her laugh a little, even if it was about his bad luck.

"Witchers! Prisc'! Do you realize?"

She nodded.

"I think they're there for Emilia," she said, her smile gone.

It calmed the excitement of the street singer a bit.

"You think?"

"Why else? They only come when there is a problem with monsters."

He shrugged his lute's strap over his shoulder.

"Are you singing with me?"

They did a few hit covers before taking a break.

"Do we know what the witchers who arrived looked like?"

Jaskier didn't dare to hope too much. Everyone knew that Colonel de Rivia only worked on emergencies.

A smirk lit up the young woman's face.

"Rosalin saw them on the way to the fish market. According to her, they were all too good to be human. One of the witches had purple eyes and the other huge, very light green eyes."

A ray of hope was born in Jaskier's chest. The woman with the purple eyes could only be Yennefer de Vengerberg, the witch at the head of the elite research section. And Yennefer was Colonel de Rivia's partner.

"One of the witchers had very short black hair, and hold on tight, the other was huge with long white hair tied at the back of the neck."

"Colonel de Rivia," whispered Jaskier, who suddenly felt sick.

His heart was beating too hard and the butterflies that usually fluttered in his belly made him feel like they wanted to get out of it and not by his mouth.

"Yes!" hopped the young woman, oblivious to her friend's distress. “And I heard they stayed at the Passiflora.”

The information took his breath away. He had a date with Valdo at the Passiflora the same evening. Even the idea of being face to face with Colonel de Rivia while he was with Valdo made him sick.

In any case, if he imagined that it was a little teen crush, his somewhat extreme reaction told him something completely different.

Oh, gods, he was doomed.

"You okay?" asked Priscilla, who had seen him turn pale.

"Yeah, it's okay, don't worry. Last night, I stayed to drink a little more..."

The grimace she made assured him that she had believed his lie. He had to recover. He couldn't let a little crush turn his head.

"Shall we continue?"

"Set the tone."

At the end of the afternoon, he still hadn't digested the news and he still wondered if he shouldn't cancel his date with Valdo. But it was the prospect of seeing the colonel himself that prevented him from grabbing his phone.

At 7 pm., he was at the Passiflora, sitting at the bar with a beer, dressed in his most beautiful light blue shirt and skinny jeans, when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

A message.

**From Valdo**

_ Sorry, I can’t come. Work. Another time? _

**From Jaskier**

_ Sure. No prob’. Call me. _

**From Valdo**

_ Okay. Sorry. _

Even though he was a little disappointed that Valdo had cancelled on him for the evening, Jaskier was relieved. He had been uncomfortable since he had arrived and had kept looking over his shoulder towards the upper floors. So far, no trace of Colonel de Rivia or the others.

Perhaps they were already on the hunt?

Witchers are known to be particularly efficient. They were certainly outside, in the streets, looking for the monster who had killed Emilia.

"Is the place taken?"

The low voice made the young man shiver. He turned and found himself eye to eye with amber ones with the cat's pupil. A witcher. The other that Priscilla had mentioned.

Attractive with short, black hair.

"No. I'm all alone for the evening. My date isn’t coming."

The witcher settled down.

"Just what I thought. I saw you looking at your phone and your shoulders dropped. Lambert, witcher." he said to him, holding out his hand.

Jaskier immediately shook it.

"Jaskier, musician."

The cat's gaze was scrutinizing. Jaskier bowed to the inspection graciously before hailing the waiter to order a beer for his new friend.

Lambert raised a surprised eyebrow. He wasn't used to being so well received.

"Not scared?"

"Of what?" asked the young man, confused by the question.

The witcher smirked.

"People are afraid of us in general. Not you."

Jaskier smiled too.

"My friends often tell me that I have no self-preservation instinct. Cheers." He said, raising his tankard, the waiter had just served the witcher.

The latter imitated his gesture and they drank together.

"Are you there for the monster who killed Emilia?"

As alluring as he was, Jaskier wasn't attracted to Lambert and it had nothing to do with the two scars that passed over his right eye and part of his forehead. Also, as much to learn a little more about their presence in Novigrad.

"Did you know the victim?"

Jaskier nodded.

"A friend. A nice girl, she didn't deserve that."

"We're here to catch the bastard. Do you know if she had any problems?"

Jaskier narrowed his eyes. That was an interesting question. Why ask if she had been in trouble if they were looking for a monster?

"Not with werewolves anyway."

"Is that the rumor? Do people say she was killed by a werewolf?"

Ah. Yes, indeed. No one had told him about the werewolf. He had simply made the connection between the Oxenfurt affair and the death of Emilia because of what the journalist had said on TV.

"The media said that Emilia was mutilated. There had been the same kind of murders in Oxenfurt when I was a student there. At the time the newspapers had talked about a werewolf, I just associated the ideas. "

He saw something light up in the witcher's gaze.

"Am I a suspect?"

The remark took Lambert by surprise. Jaskier saw it and chuckled.

"What I said interested you. Am I wrong?"

The witcher motioned for the waiter to fill their glasses.

"No need to get me drunk to make me talk. Ask your questions."

Lambert opened his mouth but a woman's voice cut him off.

"I leave you alone for three minutes and you find a way to flirt!"

"I'm not flirting, Ciri."

Jaskier looked at the young woman and his eyes widened. Had he ever seen such a beautiful woman?

She looked at the witcher with amusement before laying eyes on Jaskier. Her eyes grew serious and she detailed him from head to toe.

He smiled, charming.

"We weren't flirting, he was questioning me."

The witcher pinched Jaskier's thigh. He didn't yell, barely, and gave him an annoyed look. Lambert shook his head. Jaskier received the message. Whoever was the beauty who had just joined them, it was better not to try to flirt with her.

She watched them both.

"Why?"

"He knows the victim and he was in Oxenfurt."

The lack of details intrigued the musician. He wasn't the only one to have made the connection between Emilia and Oxenfurt. The idea gave him chills.

She asked for a beer and sat down next to Jaskier. Rather friendly, the air between them became tense. He was perfectly aware of what the two people were up to next to him. If he didn't misinterpret things, the young woman must have been Lambert's witch partner and he had really gone from friendly acquaintance to suspect.

The idea made him giggle.

"So? Who's starting?"

His friends were right, he had no sense of danger. He even found it funny to be in the mir line of a witchers' team.

Ciri raised an eyebrow, astonished.

"Is he not scared?"

Lambert shook his head.

"Not even a little."

"I'm impressed. Ciri." she said, finally introducing herself.

"Jaskier."

She smirked.

"I like crazy people like you."

Just like that, the atmosphere was friendly again.

They drank together, the two witchers asked him questions, but Jaskier had a hard time answering them. However, he had to meet their expectations because when he got up to go home, Lambert offered to accompany him.

He tried to refuse, but the witcher insisted.

"I don't know why, but my gut tells me to keep your ass safe. So don't argue, I'll walk you home whether you agree or not."

Jaskier didn't argue anymore. He wasn't going to complain about having a witcher as a bodyguard.

During the trip, they chatted, Jaskier mainly asking questions about the organization that employed Lambert. Among other things, he learned that Ciri was the daughter of Colonel de Rivia and he congratulated himself on not having tried to hit on her.

Lambert left him at the foot of his building.

"If you have any other questions, I'm at Hierarch Square all day."

The witcher nodded and left.

Jaskier went up to his apartment and sighed deeply as soon as the door was locked. The evening had been interesting, even if he had not had the opportunity to see Colonel de Rivia.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comm' and the kudos! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter ;)

A phone rang loudly in the silent room. Two indistinct grunts answered before a sound of crumpled sheets was heard.

"What?" growled Lambert, picking up the phone.

From the first words of his interlocutor, all traces of sleep disappeared from the witcher's features.

"We're coming. Geralt, we have another victim."

"Fuck."

In the half-light of the room, Lambert saw his chief stand up and get up with an unjustified grace—as if he hadn’t been asleep a few seconds earlier.

The younger witcher imitated him with just as much efficiency.

About ten minutes later, they were both ready to go.

"Go order a quick breakfast from the lobby" Geralt ordered, as he headed towards the room occupied by Yennefer and Ciri.

Breakfast was served and Lambert had already started his own when his companions came downstairs.

"Where?" asked Geralt as he served himself.

"The Bits District, towards the east of the city. A man this time."

"Hmm."

"Same kind of injuries. He was discovered by a patrol less than an hour ago."

Ciri put down her cup of coffee.

"They took a while to call us."

Lambert shrugged.

"You know what it is. Someone finds it, they the Central, and once they’re there, they decide what to do."

"And we lose precious clues while waiting."

Yennefer, silent until she drank her first cup of tea in the morning, watched them, amused.

"Let's go," said the colonel, already standing up. "Hopefully we’ll have a lead to follow."

The other three rose.

The sun wasn't yet up when they reached the crime scene. A security cordon surrounded the site, but onlookers were already gathering around it.

"Vultures," growled Lambert, who watched each face one by one.

Lights illuminated the body in the middle of a small square, wedged between two large buildings, out of sight.

"Colonel, Captain, ladies," greeted the police officer in charge.

"What do we have?" Geralt asked as Yennefer headed towards the corpse and the other two walked around the perimeter.

"A human man, about the same age as the last victim, the same type of injury. Traces of blood show that he was attacked right here and that he didn't have time to do anything."

"Hmm."

The victim was on his back. This time, the eyes had been completely torn off and the mouth was twisted into a terrifying grimace. He had seen his death happen. The torso was torn, from the stomach to the pubis. This time, the killer had not been interested in the victim's chest, but by his crotch. Nothing remained of his masculine attributes.

"He started by emasculating him," remarked Yennefer, "he was alive all along."

The police officers around them winced and one of them had to step aside to vomit.

"Anger?"

"Rage. These crimes, Geralt, are personal. I don't know about those in Oxenfurt, but in this case… ." Her hand lit up in a pale blue glow and she ran it over the body. "There is still a residue of the rage on the corpse."

Geralt knelt beside her and took a deep breath. Beyond the smell of blood and viscera, he caught up. A canine smell. He knew this one by heart. No doubt now, it was the same killer as Oxenfurt. But, there was something else, a strange smell, a smell of honey and earth.

"I have something." He straightened up. "Lambert!"

The young witcher ran up.

"What?"

"Smell it."

Lambert winced.

"Really?"

The hard look that answered him was enough. Disgusted, he sniffed the air around the corpse. His senses were quickly overwhelmed by the smell of blood, viscera, and everything that could be found disgusting in such a neighborhood. Then his face tensed sharply. He had something, a nasty smell, canine-like, probably the killer and an odd one, pleasant, honey, and something earthy.

He frowned.

"I got it."

Geralt nodded and straightened. He looked at the roof and saw Ciri standing with her arms outstretched, a faint glow surrounding her. He touched the headset he had in his right ear.

"Have anything?"

"No."

"We do. Follow Lambert."

He saw her nod, then turned his attention back to the younger witcher.

"You follow the smell. I'm going the other way."

He turned to Yennefer who raised her hand before he could speak.

"I'm going to the morgue."

"Hmm."

Without waiting any longer, Geralt followed the trail of the smell of honey. For three of the Oxenfurt murders, he had found a scent, the smell of a wet dog, but he had systematically lost it. In a way, it disappeared all alone in the middle of the street, in the other, the murderer always managed to jump into the water and the track stopped.

There, it was accompanied by this surprising smell of honey and earth. Maybe perfume? No, it was someone else's smell, he could bet on it.

According to the smell, he went up the street, and, as he expected, the smell specific to the werewolf disappeared, leaving only that of honey and earth.

"I lost track in the Pontar," growled Lambert in his headset.

The track made him cross the canal and took him not far from the port. The smell of the fish market on the other side of the canal disturbed his senses a little and he had to search to finally find the source of the delicious scent.

"I found the source of the smell of honey. Meet me at the entrance of the port."

"We're on our way."

While waiting for his team, Geralt went around the building. A small three-floor structure that shared its walls with the building next door. No exits other than the front door and windows. Taking to the roof for an exit wasn't viable for a human being. The ledge of it extended over the street too far to be able to hang on without risking the fall onto the busy road.

He didn't wait long. He heard his daughter's step long before they were both in sight.

"Shit," Lambert swore.

Geralt frowned.

"What?"

"This is where Jaskier lives."

"You’ve got to be kidding," muttered Ciri, looking at the building in front of her father.

"No."

Geralt growled.

"What the hell are you two talking about?"

"A person of interest we met last night."

Their colonel's gaze narrowed dangerously.

"And when were you planning to tell me about it?"

Lambert and Ciri had the decency to appear embarrassed.

"As soon as we have five minutes?" pleaded the young woman, hoping to save her colleague from her father's anger.

Geralt just sighed.

"Let’s go."

"Yes, sir!" exclaimed the two young people at the same time.


	7. Chapter 7

Colonel de Rivia took the lead and went up to the third floor. There were only two doors and his nose led him to the door on the right. He tried to open it and found it locked.

"Open this for me," he whispered to Ciri.

The young woman nodded dryly and a faint yellowish glow invaded her palm. She grabbed the door handle and they heard the noise of the latch give.

Geralt entered. The smell of honey and earth was omnipresent in the apartment.

Lambert entered too and he very much hoped that it wasn't Jaskier's. The smell was unfamiliar to him, but the day before, the young man's natural smell was covered by expensive lavender perfume.

On the other hand, his instincts told him that the young man was involved in one way or another in their current case, although he would have bet his life that he wasn't their prey.

"The killer was here," whispered the colonel, who was walking into the apartment, all his senses alert.

He entered the bathroom and opened the laundry basket. Inside, dirty sheets. He sniffed them from afar.

"Our victim's smell is on it."

A door opened then and Lambert's fears were confirmed. Jaskier looked at them, eyes wide, his nakedness covered by a sheet.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment?"

And like the day before, no smell of fear emanated from the musician, despite the threatening presence of Geralt.

The latter observed him and, without answering, rushed at him, so quickly that even Lambert had trouble following the movement.

Jaskier let out a surprised little yell as the colonel pressed his nose against his neck and took a deep breath.

"Dad?" called Ciri, incredulous.

Never had she seen her father do this. She turned to Lambert who didn't understand what was going on either.

"Take him to Kaer Morhen. Interrogate him. Now."

He violently pushed Jaskier towards Lambert who caught him just before he tripped over the sheet that enveloped him.

"You're insane!" he shouted to Geralt. "So what about my rights?"

Lambert shook his head.

"No one has any rights with the Witchers until the investigation is finished."

"What?" choked the poor boy. "Can I dress at least, or is interrogating people naked one of your techniques?"

Jaskier didn't wait for an answer. He tore himself from Lambert's grip and returned to his room, pushing Geralt to the side from the doorway.

"I said..." the colonel began his scolding but Jaskier turned and glared at him.

"I don't give a shit about what you have to say! I’m going to get dressed and then I will follow you. I'm not one of your men, Colonel. Your orders—you can shove them up to your ass for all I care."

To the surprise of Lambert and Ciri, Geralt didn't answer and turned around to return to the living room. He was very tense, worrying his subordinates.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

"Let him get dressed and we’ll get the hell out of here," he growled without looking at them.

Lambert nodded and entered the room.

He found the young man with his head in the cupboard, rubbing in his non-existent beard.

"Jaskier?"

The young man stood up suddenly, a T-shirt and jeans in his hand. He glared at him.

"Was it useful to break into my house in the middle of the night?"

Wow. Lambert wasn't used to this kind of anger. Pure anger, not even  _ tinged _ with fear, and fully justified.

He chooses to be honest with him.

"We've been tracking the killer so far."

The anger disappeared entirely from the musician's smell and behavior. He had turned pale.

"You're kidding?"

Lambert shook his head.

Jaskier took a deep breath, then two, trying to stem the sudden terror that gripped his gut.

"Well ... I guess it's better if I follow you without making a fuss, then. Give me two minutes."

Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

Ciri was waiting in the corridor, arms folded. With one eye, she watched her father’s back, standing in front of the living room window. It seemed to be made of marble, his muscles so tight.

Lambert nodded to her, concern clouding his gaze. The young woman just shrugged, but she felt no less.

"I'm ready," Jaskier announced somberly as he left the room.

Ciri nodded and with a movement of her hand opened a portal.

"Let's go."

Three of them stepped into the portal and it disappeared behind them.

Alone, Geralt let out a deep, trembling sigh.

He then took out his cell phone and called Yennefer.

"I need you right now."

"I’m busy"

"Now, Yen. It's an emergency."

He hung up and knelt on the ground, hands on his thighs as he waited for his partner.

Another portal opened and Yennefer appeared in the apartment. Seeing Geralt in a meditation position, she rushed over to him.

"What's the matter?" she asked, tilting his face up with a hand under his chin.

She gasped before his gaze.

The pupils were fully dilated and fine black veins grew around his sockets.

"Fuck."

Yennefer was never vulgar, but the situation was serious. Geralt was already showing her his wrists.

"I don't have the handcuffs with me."

"Yen..." growled the witcher, disapproving.

"Come."

She took him by the arm and with the other hand opened another portal. He followed and they landed in a room without a door where the only furniture was a huge dimeritium cage.

Geralt didn't hesitate. He entered it and went down to his knees again as the young woman closed the cage and sealed it by magic.

"I'm warning Vesemir."

Geralt nodded.

"I'll be back in two hours."

He nodded again.

"The kid we arrested. He's not guilty. But he's at the heart of the case. Put Letho on the search of his apartment."

"Will do."

Yennefer left the room through a new portal.

Locked in the highest room of the highest tower of Kaer Morhen, Geralt did not risk being a danger to anyone. Rid of this risk, he could finally try to regain control of his body and his emotions.

*

Sitting in an office that looked nothing like an interrogation room, Jaskier tried to collect his mind. A few minutes earlier he had been in bed and now he was at Kaer Morhen, the legendary headquarter of the W.I.T.C.H.E.R. and he had finally met Colonel Geralt de Rivia.

With hindsight, he trembled. At the time, Colonel's behavior had shocked him so much that he hadn't realized what was going on.

Geralt de Rivia was much more impressive in real life than in photos. The 2D images didn't do justice to the intensity of his gaze or his overwhelming presence.

And just to think that he had had his face into the crook of his neck, Jaskier blushed like a young damsel. He felt ridiculous. Although, it was better to think about Colonel de Rivia than the fact that the killer had been in his apartment.

The last person to come to his home was Emilia's childhood friend. Damn it! He didn't even remember his name!

The office door finally opened and Lambert entered followed by another witcher. Jaskier recognized him easily. Lieutenant-Colonel Eskel de Brün wasn't one whose faces could be forgotten. The latter took his place in front of him while Lambert remained standing behind him. Strangely, the presence of the witcher on his back reassured him.

"Last name. First name. Place of birth."

"Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. Born in Lettenhove."

Eskel raised an eyebrow.

"You introduced yourself under another name to my colleague."

Jaskier smiled.

"Do you find a viscount who plays lute in the street credible? I just prefer to be called Jaskier."

"It will be easy to verify."

The witcher opened a file and took out several photos.

"Do you recognize these people?"

The first that Jaskier took was that of Emilia.

"I know her. She was a friend."

He put it aside and grabbed another. It was the face of another young girl. A pretty brunette with a charming smile. At the moment, she said nothing to him, but he had a vague feeling of deja-vu. He watched her for a long time, searching into his memory where he could have met her.

He snapped his fingers when he remembered.

"I went out with her a few weeks after the beginning of my third year in Oxenfurt. It was three years ago."

He took the other photos, one after the other. Men, women, people whom he’d slept with. Each person in each photo had been a lover. And when Eskel handed him the last, he gasped in terror: he was Emilia's friend.

"What does it mean?" he managed to stammer.

He didn't understand what the witchers wanted from him. Was he being watched? Since when? And why?

"All of these people were victims of the werewolf who killed your friend."

Jaskier froze.

"What?"

Eskel leaned over, her eyes narrowed.

"You are the only common point between all these people, Mr. Pankratz."

Suddenly a rumble echoed behind him. Eskel straightened up and looked at his colleague, surprised.

Jaskier turned.

Lambert was growling at the other witcher, eyes pointed in a glare.

"Lambert?"

The witcher recovered, also surprised by his behavior.

"Outside."

Eskel got up and went out, leaving the door open for his colleague to follow.

Barely Lambert was out of the room when Eskel pressed him against the wall, his arm across his chest.

"What the hell are you doing?" scolded the Lieutenant-Colonel.

The younger witcher shook his head.

"I don't know. It's just... I have to protect him. My instinct, my senses, everything tells me to protect this kid," admitted Lambert between clenched teeth.

"Well, hold it back. You know I won’t hurt him, so don't interfere or get out."

Lambert nodded.

Eskel was able to continue the interrogation, but like the day before, with Lambert's questions, Jaskier couldn't answer him. He had slept with all the victims once or twice, and the only one he stayed in touch with afterward was Emilia. And because she was a friend before. The others, he had met them in bars, had drunk with them and then they had slept together. Unfortunately, he had no more information to give them.

Eskel decided that Jaskier would spend the night there, under Lambert's supervision, while waiting for Geralt to give his orders.


	8. Chapter 8

Two hours later, Geralt managed to get his wits together and had assembled his staff in his office. Besides Yennefer and Eskel, Vesemir, Triss, Letho, and his witch partner Sheala were there, too. Letho of Gulet was the head of the Viper section, specializing in cases requiring discretion and speed of attack. If Geralt hadn't taken charge of the case that now occupied them, it would have ended up on Letho's desk.

"So?" asked the Colonel once everyone was installed.

Eskel stood up and displayed on the screen what he had prepared on his tablet. A photo of Jaskier appeared on the screen.

"Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, goes by ‘Jaskier’. Graduated from Oxenfurt with honors last year, his father confirms that his rebellious son preferred to flee the house to make music rather than take over the family business. He is also the cousin of Iorvech aep Diared, the secretary-general of the party for the rights of non-humans of Redania."

He sat down again and Sheala got up too.

"The analyzes confirm. Mr. Pankratz is a half-elf and doesn't present any of the known genetic mutations which may be attributable to lycanthropy."

Something loosened in Geralt's chest. Instinctively, he knew the kid was innocent and confirmation relieved him of a weight.

Letho followed.

"One of the windows was broken. Since it hasn't been repaired, it is possible to assume that the break-in is recent. For the rest, everything goes with his history."

It was Yennefer's turn.

"The autopsies carried out on the last two bodies show an evolution in the killer. As Cirilla pointed out, the attacks are precise. The killer keeps his victim alive as long as possible and makes the wounds with this in mind. He then kills them with a precise blow into the chin strap. "

Geralt straightened up.

"What do you deduce from this?"

"Not only does he get a taste for killing, but whatever Mister Pankratz does, it makes him angry. It could turn into a bloodbath."

"Um. Anything else?"

Triss raised his hand.

"The Earl of Lettenhove demanded that his son be returned to him as soon as possible or he will await a trial for arbitrary arrest."

"Tell him that his son is under close protection."

She smiled.

"It's already done."

Geralt nodded.

"Find what the kid did to get the werewolf to kill again. There is a reason for the brutal cessation of the crimes in Oxenfurt and their return to Novigrad. Find it. You can go. Yennefer, Vesemir, stay, I have to talk to you."

The three of them remained silent for a moment. The subject Geralt wanted to talk about was obvious and neither Yennefer or Vesemir wanted to tackle it.

"What happened this morning," began the colonel, "must not happen again. No one could stop me if I should go crazy. Blaviken would pass for a little skirmish."

The witch's eyes widened in horror.

"Don't you even think about—"

She didn't dare to go through with her thought.

Geralt shook his head.

"I have no intention of committing suicide,Yen, if that's the question. At least not before further examinations."

Vesemir's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I know what awakened the mutation."

The surprise froze the witch and the old witcher.

Blaviken or rather The Blaviken's Butchery, the name under which the event remained in history, was the result of a dreadful error.

A few years after the treaty with the countries of the Continent, archaeological excavations had been organized near an old Elder site. A major discovery had been made there. Old mutagens had been unearthed and, as stipulated by the treaty, this type of thing was in fact the responsibility of the WITCHER. The mage in charge of the research section had set up a series of experiments on the mutagens in question and, at the end of several years of research had come to the conclusion that these mutagens were compatible with those inoculated to the witchers and which would even have the advantage of increasing their capacity.

Ten volunteers were chosen to serve as guinea pigs. Seven were dead before the experiment was even completed. The three survivors, however, displayed exceptional abilities: faster, more developed senses, etc.

Ten years later, a serious curse overwhelmed the small town of Blaviken and the three witchers were sent there. The problem was solved, but two of the three witchers went mad in the middle of the town square. The third, Geralt, managed to stop them by killing them. However, there were innocent victims.

Geralt had spent more than a year in quarantine undergoing further tests, before being given the authorization to return to service.

But the reason for the madness of the two witchers had never been found.

Therefore, Yennefer, the most powerful witch in the organization, had been ordered to follow Geralt in all his travels outside of Kaer Morhen, always having dimeritium handcuffs with her, in case his mutation awoke.

And that was precisely what had happened that morning.

However, Geralt had managed to control the sudden animal impulse that had seized him in front of the young Julian Pankratz.

"It was the young man who caused the mutation to arise."

Yennefer nodded thoughtfully.

"Indeed, it will be easy to do additional exams if it is enough that you are in his presence. It’s worth a try."

"I also want you, with Istredd, to look into reorganizing searches of the place where the mutagens were found. I want to know everything about the place."

"I will see to that."

She got up and left without a word.

Vesemir looked at his pupil for a long time.

"It's not all, is it?"

The colonel's gaze intensified and a smile flourished on his lips. He couldn't hide anything from his mentor.

"What I felt when I laid my eyes on Julian is beyond anything I have felt so far. Even Ciri doesn't give rise to such a need for protection. I had the pressing need to take him against me and bare the fangs to anyone who would dare to approach. And the only reason I can sit in this chair is that Julian is safe here at Kaer Morhen. "

Vesemir remained silent, weighing his words. Then he touched the wolf-shaped medallion he had around his neck. Geralt wore the same.

"The wolf in you wants to protect his pack. Is that how you feel it?"

Geralt's eyes widened slightly.

"Yes. Exactly. To different degrees, I feel the same for you, Ciri, Yen, Triss, Lambert, and Eskel."

The old witcher nodded.

"And is it stronger for Julian? More than for your cub, your sisters, and your brothers?"

_ Mate _ .

The warmth that spread in his chest at the thought was his answer. He thought back to the morning scene. The young man hadn't been afraid of him, he had even opposed him in a way that no one had ever dared to. Even Ciri and Yennefer backed away when he got angry. And this morning, the imminent danger had provoked his rage. Julian hadn't backed away. He’d even insulted him.

The old witcher left the room without Geralt realizing it, leaving him alone with his thoughts and feelings colliding in his chest.

The additional experiments to which he had been subjected had also amplified the defects of the mutagens used to transform them into a witcher. Not all received the same mutagens and they were divided into the corresponding sections. He had been transformed from wrag's mutagens, his section was the Wolf one. The additional mutagen had made him more likely to behave as such.

Perhaps he had something to explain the madness of Valir and Najdar. Both belonged to the Manticore section. An aggressive monster by nature who reacted to the slightest provocation.

Geralt had never been in the position where one of the members of his pack was in danger in his presence. But he had raised Ciri like his daughter and had given her the means to defend herself. He had always honored the oath that bound him to Lambert, acting with him like he was the little brother he had never had. Eskel was his brother by heart in whom he placed blind faith. He respected Vesemir more than anyone else and Triss and Yen were the feminine touches that kept him most human.

He will die for any of them.

As for Julian...

A purr echoed in his chest.

He got up suddenly. He had to see him, speak to him, confirm what the wolf was yelling at him.


	9. Chapter 9

Ciri cornered her father right after he left his office.

"Can someone explain to me exactly what's going on?" She demanded, her voice tinged with anger.

And if she seemed to be standing casually, fists on her hips, Geralt easily noticed the position of her feet. She was preparing for a fight. So she was fully aware that whatever was hidden from her was serious and she had every intention of knowing what was going on.

Geralt nodded to the door to his office.

She walked past him and entered and waited, arms crossed, for his explanations.

He silenced the little voice in his head that whispered to leave her out of it, that he didn't need to overwhelm her with his problems, but the young woman was worried enough to come and confront him directly.

"What do you know about Blaviken's Butchery?"

"Very little, it's not the kind of event that teachers love to teach."

Geralt, therefore, gave her a summary of the story, from the experiments to the madness of the two witchers. He also tells her about his hypotheses, the very ones he had thought of less than half an hour earlier.

The tears in her daughter's eyes hit him right in the heart. He hated seeing her cry.

Proud, she sniffed and wiped her face with the back of her hand, and acted as if she had never shed a tear.

"It surely explains Lambert's behavior."

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

"What behavior?"

"I think the easiest way is to see it for yourself."

Geralt hated riddles, but he followed her without complaining. They found the younger witcher at the officer’s mess.

At the door, Ciri prevented him from entering.

"Wait, look."

The scene was surprising. Julian was seated at the table in front of his meal while Lambert was standing behind him, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was wearing the worst expression he could. The other officers who came for lunch couldn't have approached within two meters of the musician's table.

Lambert was one of the youngest and most powerful witchers. Geralt hadn't been mistaken when he had gotten him from his cell so long ago. The boy had shown exceptional resilience during training and when he had been transformed, the mutagens had revealed an equally impressive power. Few witchers were able to compete with him.

So, no one dared to approach them.

A certain pride invaded Geralt when he saw him baring his fangs to an officer who had passed the invisible perimeter delimited by the young witcher.

"He even growled on Eskel when he was interrogating Jaskier."

The young woman's tone betrayed a certain satisfaction.

Geralt smirked. She too was proud of her partner.

"Let's try something," he said, winking at her.

The colonel's face suddenly closed and his gaze hardened.

Ciri raised an intrigued eyebrow. It was no longer her father by her side, but Colonel de Rivia, and an angry one.

He strode through the door and everyone stood up immediately, snapping to attention. Geralt didn't give them a look, walking straight to Lambert and Julian.

The young witcher's eyes narrowed and he moved closer to the musician.

Julian wasn't looking at him. He didn't pay attention to what was going on in the room. It was only when the low growl rose behind his back that he looked up.

But Geralt's attention was only on Lambert. He snarled, ordering him to submit. The young witcher groaned louder, bending over the musician.

The colonel wondered if Lambert was aware of his behavior. It was hard for him not to laugh, but he couldn't accept the young witcher's obvious insubordination.

Geralt's body relaxed, bending in a fighting position, and he snapped his jaws.

A tense silence fell on the room. No one dared to breathe, even Ciri who couldn't believe her eyes.

Suddenly Lambert straightened up, his eyes wide on his colonel. A low whine escaped from his clenched jaws and he offered his neck, in a display of submission.

"Have you finished?" snapped Jaskier, looking at Geralt, disdainful.

Geralt's eyes fell on the musician. Did this kid have a single ounce of self-preservation?

None of the men and women in the room dared to move until he had spoken, and this young man was perfectly at ease.

He shook his head and turned his attention back to Lambert.

"Good work."

The young witcher relaxed and the others did too. A faint roar of chatter resumed in the mess, even if everyone remained wary towards their colonel.

"Colonel," Lambert greeted him.

"Ciri, escort Mister Pankratz to my office."

"Yes, Colonel. Jaskier? Follow me."

The musician sighed heavily, but got up and followed the young woman, not without having cast an unkind look at Geralt.

The colonel waited a few moments, then with a movement of his head indicated to Lambert to follow him.

They left the mess hall and Geralt headed for the inner courtyard.

"What as that?" he asked when they were outside.

Lambert tensed again.

"My gut tells me to protect the kid and this morning ... You were acting strange."

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

"You don't trust me anymore?"

"Of course I do!" protested the young witcher. "But this morning, something was wrong."

The corners of Geralt's mouth twitched and he put his hand on his shoulder.

"You acted exactly as you should. If your gut tells you something is wrong, trust it."

"What’s happening?"

"Ciri will explain it to you. Come on."

They joined the colonel's office. Julian paced there while Ciri watched him go, amused.

Upon entering, Geralt motioned for his daughter to leave.

"Ciri, explain this morning's problem to Lambert. Julian, please sit down."

A little surprised by the colonel's sudden politeness, Jaskier obeyed.

He watched him sit in his chair and sighed heavily.

“I'm sorry for my behavior this morning.”

The deep voice flowed like hot chocolate and suddenly warmed Jaskier's belly, his anger against the witcher dissipated away.

“Can you explain what the hell’s going on? I still don't understand why I was kidnapped this morning, or why I'm being kept here," he asked, more to chase away the sudden discomfort that he felt being alone in the same room as his teen crush than to get a real answer.

The colonel let himself lean against the back of his chair.

“Don't play the fool, Mr. Pankratz. You graduated with honors, you won't make me believe that you are an idiot. I'm sure you already have the answer to some of these questions. "

A huge smile lit up the musician's features. He was often taken for a fool. Jaskier had known for a few years that his slender physique and his almost feminine face earned him the condescension of his contemporaries. So, when someone recognizing his merit particularly touched him. The fact that it was Colonel de Rivia himself made him euphoric.

“I suppose you want to know what I understood?” Geralt nodded. “First thing, my meeting with Lambert and Ciri was fortuitous. I knew you were there, like everyone else in town, but I had a date since the day before that was canceled at the last moment.”

Jaskier spoke quickly naturally and even more when he was nervous and the colonel's intense gaze made more so.

“When we discussed, Lambert and I, I understood that you had already made the link with the Oxenfurt murders. Link that I had made too, but I just thought it was the same type of creature, not the same one. When you had broken into my apartment, I thought you thought I was guilty, especially the way you act, and then Lieutenant-Colonel de Brün showed me the pictures of the victims from Oxenfurt and Novigrad. I slept with all of them. So I have a guy who follows me, since you found his trace into my home, and who kills all the people with whom I have the pleasure of spending a night or two. My dad is going to have a heart attack when he'll know I'm involved in such a case. Now that we've established what I know, I have a few questions too.”

Geralt had never met someone who could speak so quickly and say so many things in such a short time. It should have annoyed him, but the glow in the blue eyes intrigued him and the soft, melodious voice left him with a pleasant feeling in the chest.

“I'm listening.”

Jaskier took a deep breath.

“How long am I going to stay here? I have rent to pay and it is not by being cloistered between these four walls that I am going to get it paid. What are you going to do for my other unfortunate lovers? And last, maybe I'll be prying, but… is it my perfume that poisoned you this morning? If so, I'm really sorry, I don't usually hang out with witchers."

Geralt's eyes widened at the last question. Ciri and Lambert had not seen his condition, but this kid… had?

A slight smile stretched the colonel's lips.

“You will stay here as long as we deem necessary for your safety. For your lovers, we will need a list of names. About your last question, what do you know about the witchers?”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow, mocking.

“I'm sorry, but I skipped witcher's biology class.”

Geralt chuckled. At last, his unexpected mate had wits.

“We are improved from substances taken from certain monsters. I was subjected to additional experiments. It wasn't your perfume that poisoned me this morning, it was your natural scent that triggered those mutations.”

The young man's cheeks took on a pretty pink hue and the embarrassment added a spicy note to his natural scent.

“It's… I mean, you don't seem to have a problem right now.”

Geralt smirked.

“That's right. But this morning, you were in danger. A killer had passed by your apartment.”

Jaskier gave him a doubtful look.

“Do you react this way whenever someone is in danger?“

Definitely not an idiot.

“No. Just you. I was modified from wrag genes. Do you know what a wrag is?”

“A kind of wolf.”

“Right. My additional mutation asserts the lupine genes I have. To be simple, the wolf in me considers you as a member of its pack. Hence the extreme reaction this morning.“

Jaskier became all red and if he had been in a cartoon, his ears would certainly have started smoking. In essence, Colonel de Rivia had just told him that he was important to him. An odd way of flirting, he supposed, but he rather liked it. Despite his embarrassment, he leaned over the desk and a charming smile bloomed on his lips.

“I hope that’s a good thing?”

Geralt found himself attracted by the musician's beguiling smile. However, he was going to have to destroy his hopes. For the moment anyway.

“No. I can't control myself like this and I'm already the most dangerous of all witchers. That's why I need your help.”

All Jaskier's adolescent dreams had just been destroyed in a single sentence after he had cherished, for a brief moment, the foolish hope of perhaps seeing them come true. It was cruel on the part of the colonel.

“For what?” he asked in a weak voice.

Geralt's jaws contracted briefly at his mate's disappointment.

“I need to know what condition triggers the mutation. My partner should be ready for more experiences and I need your consent.”

Oh yeah. The beautiful Yennefer of Vengerberg.

“No problem for me. We can start when you want. The sooner it is over, the faster I can go home.”

Geralt was standing up when he saw him turn pale with realization.

“Priscilla. I slept with Priscilla!”

The musician jumped from his chair and grabbed the colonel's wrists.

“You must protect my friend!”

He was panicking.

Geralt couldn't control his reaction. He walked around the desk and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at him.

“Look at me.” Jaskier obeyed and his gaze focused on the witcher's eyes. “I need her name, address, phone number, and where she works. Now.”

Panic ebbed a little.

Jaskier grabbed the first pen he found on the desk and wrote down the requested information.

Geralt took the paper immediately and grabbed his phone.

“Send me Auckes.”

He hung up, then grabbed Jaskier by the back of the neck, and pressed his forehead to his.

“Focus on me. Your friend will be fine. I promise you.”

The musician took deep breaths and relaxed under his hand.

Geralt closed his eyes and tried to regain control. Again, the mutation had been triggered by the young man.

He opened his eyes suddenly when he felt something soft on his cheekbone. Jaskier's fingers gently pressed against his skin.

“Your veins," he breathed, his big blue eyes focused on him, fascinated.

“Fuck.”

He was losing control. He had to… He tried to back away, to protect the young musician from his own reactions.

Jaskier didn't give him time. His two hands framed his jaws and his gaze gave him an anchor.

“I'm fine, Geralt. I'm just worried about my friend.”

He was telling the truth. He felt it. The smell of honey and earth invaded his nostrils and he managed to calm the wolf howling in his mind.

“That's it, here we are.”

The young man's calm voice tamed the wolf and Geralt regained control. Or almost. He locked Jaskier in his arms, folded his nose in the crook of his neck, and took a deep breath of the smell that calmed him.

“I'm sorry," he whispered, without looking up.

“Don't be. It's nice, in a way, to make a man like you lose control.”

With his face hidden, Geralt allowed himself a real smile before lifting his head, frowning.

“I could be dangerous for you.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

Geralt opened his mouth to answer, but there was a knock on the door. Auckes was there, breaking their sudden intimacy.


	10. Chapter 10

Colonel de Rivia had led him to an apartment within the fortress. It didn't take long for Jaskier to figure out where he was exactly. The swords hanging on the wall and the numerous photographs of Ciri at any age had sold the trick. He was in the colonel's apartment.

Sitting in the living room, a sheet of paper placed on the coffee table in front of him, he tried to remember with whom he had slept in recent months.

The musician would never have believed one day that his sexual appetites could be mortal for someone. He had never been ashamed of sleeping around. He liked it. He loved the thrill of seduction, the hours of making love, and the loving afterglow.

The trouble was that most of the time, he didn't even remember the name of the person he had slept with. It didn't particularly matter under normal circumstances. But there, he bitterly regretted not having a better memory.

He had been able to note a few anyway. Novigrad was a big city, but when you always went to the same places, you saw the same people again.

Anyway, he couldn't concentrate. His mind was far from these vague love affairs. Colonel de Rivia didn't go out of his mind. He still felt his large hand on the back of his neck, his heat spreading across his skin. He was still trembling at having felt his body against his. And his eyes! Oh, damn those eyes! Was it really normal to experience such a violent desire to see these fine black lines spread on his skin, like fine lines of ink on his forehead and cheekbones?

He squirmed at the memory of the dilated pupils and the trembling breath that the colonel had exhaled when he had touched his skin. For a moment, he had thought he was going to kiss him.

How he regretted having put on jeans this morning!

Colonel Geralt de Rivia was too much for his own sanity.

Someone knocked on the door.

Jaskier got up from the sofa and went to the door keeping it closed, wary of whoever could be behind it.

“Who is it?”

A brief laugh answered him.

“Lambert. You’re needed at the lab.”

Ah yes, certainly for the experiments that the colonel had spoken about.

He opened the door.

The young witcher looked at him from head to toe and wrinkled slightly his nose.

“What? Do I stink?”

Lambert smirked.

“No, you just smell aroused.”

Jaskier thought he was going to faint with the sudden, intense shame he was feeling.

“You can smell that?” he squeaked, hoping that a hole would soon open under his feet and swallow him entirely.

“Yeah! And other things too. Come on.”

Red with shame, Jaskier simply nodded and closed the door behind him.

*

Geralt hated the laboratory. If the mutations were necessary for their work, the pain they had caused was a memory he preferred to keep buried in his mind.

Yennefer was circling around the secure chair where he would soon be seated for further experiments.

Leaning against the wall and arms crossed over his chest, he was waiting for his partner to complete her preparations

“We can start.”

Geralt exhaled a short sigh and straightened before going to sit in the chair in the center of the room. Leather ties lined with dimeritium were attached to his wrists and ankles. He wasn't convinced it would hold him back if something went wrong, but Yennefer's presence reassured him.

He tested the shackles and nodded.

“I'm going to do a scan of your mutations first, see if your episode has caused a change.”

A purple glow lit up her hands and she ran them over him. It was not painful, but the feeling was far from pleasant.

A map of his internal anatomy appeared on a screen, in front of him.

Yennefer studied it carefully.

“Good. Nothing unusual.”

Satisfied, Yennefer made the screen disappear with an impatient flick of the hand.

“Let's see the molecular structure.”

From the way the purple eyes flashed, Geralt knew the easy part had just ended.

No more soft glow in the hands. The tips of her fingers started to crackle and the witcher clenched his jaws when she placed them on his chest. A sharp pain radiated throughout his body. A groan escaped him in spite of himself.

“Quit being a wimp. It's not painful yet.”

Sometimes the witcher wondered if his partner took pleasure in seeing him suffer.

The crackling intensified and he groaned loudly. He had the impression that every fiber of his being caught fire under the discharge of magic. He just managed to keep still, knowing that the slightest movement would only make things worse.

“Stop!”

Heads snapped to the front door of the laboratory. Jaskier stood in the frame, his face defeated in horror, his eyes on Geralt.

The witcher felt the distress of his mate and again, the wolf in him sought to join him. He pulled on the fasteners.

“Oh, shit!” swore Yennefer.

Black lines appeared on her partner's skin.

“Keep going, Yen," Geralt growled between his teeth.

“You’re crazy! You’ll—”

“Keep on going.”

Eyes locked onto the musician's, Geralt growled under the new wave of pain. He felt the mutation wake up to the increasingly obvious distress of his companion. This time, he wasn't taken by surprise, and even if the wolf gradually took control of his body, he managed to keep his mind clear.

Something happened on the edge of his conscience.

“Untie me.”

“Geralt…”

“Now!”

Yennefer hesitated. That rumbling voice was too different from her partner's usual one for her to trust him.

“No.”

The witcher roared. His muscles tightened to their maximum and he tore off the ties that held him. Nobody had time to react as he locked the musician in his arms and nestled his nose in the crook of his neck.

Nobody moved.

Except Jaskier.

He put a hand on the witcher's neck and gently stroked the skin his fingers could reach.

“I'm fine," he whispered softly against the top of his head. “I'm fine.”

Geralt wasn’t listening. He was trying to understand what he had felt on the chair. Then he heard Lambert's step.

That was it. He had perceived Lambert. Not with his senses as usual, but… but as the perceived distress of the musician.

He straightened up.

“You okay?” asked the musician, still plastered against his chest.

He ignored his mate’s question.

“Yen. I want a group call with Ciri, Vesemir, and Eskel. Lambert, you connect too and you have thirty seconds to go as far as possible from this room.”

For a few seconds, no one moved. Then, all of a sudden, the whole laboratory came to life.

Lambert was running away, Yennefer was giving orders to everyone and his aides dispersed around the room, obeying promptly.

Precisely thirty seconds later, Lambert's voice echoed in the room.

"I'm in place."

Silence fell onto the laboratory.

"Ciri? Eskel? Vesemir?" called Geralt.

"We’re here."

"Alright, listen carefully. You stay exactly where you are until you are told to move. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

Jaskier wondered what was going on. The colonel still held him in his arms and didn't seem to intend to let him go.

"Yen, I want you to focus on and release all your magic around us."

The witch's eyes widened.

"I don't know what you want to do, but if it goes wrong when I've run out of magic..."

He glanced over her shoulder.

"Nothing will go wrong. Just do what I tell you."

She nodded, then closed her eyes.

Jaskier felt a little tingling on the skin when magic enveloped him. Geralt's hands rested on his cheek. He watched him intently. The musician had to use all of his self-control so as not to pitifully moan under the heat of the colonel's gaze.

"I need you to think about the thing that terrifies you the most," he whispered, his mouth to a breath of his.

Something that terrified him?

How could he think of something that terrified him in the position he was in?

Geralt exhaled sharply.

"We will do this differently."

With a quick gesture, he pulled the collar of the musician's t-shirt aside and bit his shoulder, hard, enough to hurt him. If Jaskier’s panic could trigger his mutations, his pain should have the same effect.

Jaskier cried out in stinging pain. Tears sprang from the corners of his eyes as he struggled to escape the grip of the witcher.

The effect was immediate.

The black lines reappeared on Geralt's face. He tightened his grip on the musician who was moaning in pain and let his senses become sublimated by the mutation spread around him.

In his mind, the plan of Kaer Morhen and the surrounding mountain took shape. Then some points appeared.

He released Jaskier who stepped aside quickly, hand on his shoulder. One of the witch's aides rushed over to heal him. This earned him a low growl from Geralt and the aid backed away.

He closed his eyes and focused on the wolf's perceptions. 

"Run." He said with his loudest commanding voice.

He counted to ten.

"Stop. Eskel, from the armory to the east tower, Vesemir, from his office to the mess, Ciri, in the inner courtyard to her room and Lambert about two hundred meters east of the cave to the north of the fortress to the north entrance of the village. "

There was a stunned silence.

"How do you know that?" asked Ciri, taken aback.

A wolfish smile stretched the colonel's lips.

"I can feel all of you. With the mutation triggered, I know exactly where you are around me."

"Damn! That's great," exclaimed Lambert.

"Lamb’, you can come back."

With a flexible movement, he turned to Yennefer while managing to position himself precisely between Jaskier and the rest of the room.

"Did you feel it?"

She nodded quickly.

"I did. It was incredible."

"You think you can open a portal and teleport you more than fifty kilometers from here."

With the back of her hand, she wiped her forehead.

"I think so. Why?"

"I want to know how far I can perceive you."

He then turned his attention back to the musician. His gaze was clouded with anger and his hand contracted on his injured shoulder.

Geralt smelled the blood and a low rumble rolled in his chest at the metallic scent.

It was wrong.  _ So wrong _ .

Jaskier’s scent should never be mixed with the smell of blood. His control still escaped him. He approached the musician as he challenged him with his eyes. He ignored it and gripped his fist before it hit his cheek.

"Don't. You’ll hurt yourself."

The young man watched him, stunned.

"Are you fucking  _ kidding _ me?"

Jaskier refused to let his anger fade. It had hurt him badly and he was sure it'd take days to heal and fade away, if ever!

No, he would not melt in front of the witcher's intense gaze. No, he wouldn't squirm in front of his face covered in black lines and no, he wouldn't moan when...

Oh, Gods!

He moaned loudly as the colonel licked the wounds he had made himself on his shoulder.

He pulled on the long white hair to get him out of there. Damn it! They weren't alone and his cock was hardening under the wet caress.

It didn't have the desired effect. The colonel growled loudly and Jaskier found himself boxed in his arms with his back pressed against the wall and his toes scrabbling for purchase on the floor.

Yennefer cleared her throat loudly.

"Geralt! I would like a little rest. So either we finish your little experiment, or you and your boyfriend find yourself a room."

Jaskier thanked the gods. The witch's voice seemed to bring the witcher back to earth and he was now watching him with surprise, his eyes completely black.

Oh fuck.

The colonel put him back on the ground and put his hands on the wall on either side of Jaskier's head. His jaw was contracted. Each gesture seemed to require immense effort.

"Go with her."

The musician was unaware that a voice could be so deep. It sank over him like a warm blanket and Yennefer had to intervene again to make him move.

The portal opened and they disappeared inside, snatching a long complaint from the witcher.

"Open the line," he ordered after a few moments of silence.

"Geralt."

"You are at the entrance to the pass, a few kilometers from the road to Ard Carreigh."

"You can feel me?" asked the witch, uncertain.

"No," he groaned, "not you.  _ Him _ ."

Another portal opened and the witch returned, accompanied by the musician.

The vice loosened around the witcher's chest as soon as he felt him again by his side. They had to find out how this state worked. He couldn't afford to lose control like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely comments.   
> Don't hesitate to share this story if you like it ;)


	11. Chapter 11

Jaskier hesitated to join the witcher. Not that he was afraid of him, but he didn't know how he was going to react, and the audience they had made him uncomfortable.

"Everyone out! We're done for today!" exclaimed Yennefer. Then she shoved the young man towards Geralt. "Go ahead, you seem to be the only one who can calm him in this particular condition."

The musician looked at the witch, taken aback.

"He needs a doctor," he hissed at her, teeth clenched and panicking again with the witcher's current state.

Indeed, Geralt stood against the wall, breathless, his skin covered with black lines and shiny with sweat, eyes as black as obsidian.

Yennefer smirked.

"Sorry lad. All I can do for him now it's lock him in a cell. So… I think your cuddling thing is a better option, isn't it?"

Jaskier's panic turned into horror.

Lock the colonel in a cell?

_ Seriously? _

How had they managed to survive before him?

Yennefer didn't wait for his response and by the time he had decided, the laboratory was empty.

The young man sighed and approached the witcher. He gently stroked his cheek.

"Are you okay?" he asked as the colonel pressed his head against his hand.

"No. Exhausted."

Geralt couldn't even move. His instincts pushed him to take the musician in his arms, to nestle his nose against his throat, but he hurt everywhere as if each of his muscles could tear if he moved.

"Alright. Come here."

Jaskier's hand slid to cup his neck and pulled him to him. The weight of the witcher passed from the wall to his arms and he bent his knees slightly to support him.

"We're going to sit down."

"Hmm."

Jaskier managed to make them both sit down. He pushed the colonel’s back against the wall. The idea was to get help. He would never be able to drag the witcher to his apartment.

Geralt was obviously not thinking the same thing. He grabbed his arm and brought him against his chest.

"Stay."

The musician let out an amused sigh. Who would refuse this kind of invitation from such a man?

Not him.

He tried to find a comfortable position, allowing the witcher to nestle his nose against his neck - it was obviously something that allowed him to return to his normal state - without his arm going numb.

Annoyed, Geralt manhandled him onto his lap and he deeply inhaled the scent of honey, slightly tinged by arousal. A soft rumble echoed in his chest at the spicy hint.

"I didn't know wolves could purr," Jaskier breathed, pleased by the unexpected reaction.

"They don't."

Jaskier smiled at the grumpy tone.

They stood silent for a while. Jaskier hated silence, but it was pleasant and he didn't feel the usual urgent need to break it.

“Why aren’t you scared?

Jaskier thought seriously about the question. He had every reason to be terrified and yet...

"I should be. I have a psycho killer following me, one of my friends is dead, I am worried to death for another, I have a gang of witchers who burst into my house in the middle of the night, not to mention your strange behavior toward me, you took me on without giving me time to grab some of my things and yet, here, I feel safe. I shouldn't. I don't know any of you, but I feel like I have found a place that I was not even aware I had been looking for. "

“Hmm.”

Geralt straightened up and laid his head against the wall. His eyes had returned to their golden color and the black lines on his skin were slowly shrinking away.

"That's not what I meant. You're not afraid of me."

Jaskier resisted squirming under the intensity of the golden look. He bit his lip, unsure of the answer to give.

"I'm not. I mean, you are scary, but you don't scare me. I don't know how to explain it. Your behavior makes me angry or embarrasses me, but you don't feel dangerous, I mean, you are, but not to me. To me, you just feel—safe. As if we were meant to meet... Sorry, it's hard to explain why I don't shit myself when you were rushing at me like I was your prey or when you’re biting me."

The witcher remained silent for a while. Thinking he had said something stupid, Jaskier began to free himself from the embrace. After all, he was back to normal, they no longer needed to be this close.

"Hm," Geralt growled, his arm wrapped around the musician's waist, keeping him where he was. "You're feeling it too."

"Feeling what?"

"What pushes me towards you. You're feeling it too."

The musician's heart suddenly accelerated. The air between them heated up. They no longer needed to be so close, yet the witcher kept him firmly on his thighs and held down with a strong hand around his waist, explaining that something was binding them. Jaskier was a romantic and it was too much like the love stories he used to read as a teenager. It would be a lie if he hadn't imagined that Colonel de Rivia and he were destined to be lovers when he was younger and he had dreamed of great love.

He had to move away quickly before doing something he would regret, like succumbing to the urge to lean towards the colonel and kiss him.

The door of the laboratory suddenly opened and Jaskier thanked the Gods when he saw Lambert and Ciri enter the room.

“Dad!”

“Wolf!”

“What happened?” Ciri asked as she went down to her knees beside her father.

"Nothing, Cub, the experiment was exhausting."

Relieved, Jaskier stood up and this time the witcher let him do it. Besides, his attention was turned to his daughter and the musician took the opportunity to take a little distance.

It was all too much at once. He needed to go home to think about all of this. He understood that what linked him to the witcher was beyond what he could imagine. Destiny, magic, whatever, it was likely to be final and it made him question his whole life.

He watched Lambert put an arm under the colonel's to help him straighten up. They walked out of the room in silence while he stayed where he was.

Despite the heat that had been between them a few moments earlier, Jaskier wasn't stupid enough to imagine that the witcher welcomed this link with open arms. It was dangerous to have dependence, especially in regards to his job. He had to put his heart and his attraction to the witcher on mute. He was ready to help him as much as he could, it was an adventure he didn't want to turn down.

Honestly, these people were the most interesting people he'd ever met. Even his cousin, all fired up for his cause, wasn't as fascinating. And he liked Lambert. A little rough on the edges, the witcher hid a golden heart under his sarcasm. He felt that there was an unwavering friendship in the making.

"Jaskier?"

Ciri was waiting for him at the door, a raised eyebrow.

For a moment, he looked at the pretty young woman. Geralt's daughter. What could he offer the witcher beside his help? They weren't playing in the same league.

"Coming."

His naive feelings for the witcher should remain what they were, a teen crush for a hero.

They followed the two witchers for a while. At the end of a corridor, Lambert and Geralt went to the right as Ciri and he went left. He didn't ask why. Being apart from Geralt allowed him to breathe better. His overwhelming feelings for the witcher were exhausting.

Ciri led him to the mess.

It was only once in the room that Jaskier realized it was dark outside.

"Is it already so late?"

The young woman chuckled.

"Magic tends to distort time perception. Take a seat, I'll grab us something to eat."

Suddenly exhausted, Jaskier dropped into a chair and his gaze wandered the room. The place was steeped in history. The old stones that formed the building could tell the story of the thousands of people who had passed through its walls.

History hadn't been his favorite subject during his studies but thinking about it was fascinating. How many songs lingered within these walls?

Ciri came back with two trays, full of food.

They ate in silence but the moment Jaskier finished his meal, she leaned towards him.

"What are you planning to do with my father?" she asked, her serious eyes fixed in his.

"What am I... Wait·I'm the one who was dragged in this mess!"

She shook her head, impatient.

"You don't understand what's going on. My dad never acts like this. Never. And I  _ mean _ it."

Jaskier rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled a long sigh.

"You realize that we've only known each other for twenty-four hours, don't you? And that I'm not in a relationship with your father?"

His words caught the young woman off guard. She looked at him, dazed.

"You too can feel it," he concludes, surprised, "you too have the impression that I have been part of your life for much longer than that, as if my presence between these walls was not totally incongruous."

The young woman watched him for a long time, her gaze swinging between disbelief and mistrust. He was right. Of course he was right. Before the last evening, she had never heard of him, so why didn't she feel the usual distrust she always had toward strangers?

Why did the very idea that he could go back to Novigrad freeze her in horror?

A knowing smile stretched the musician's lips.

"Don't worry, I find it hard to believe that I have only been here since this morning, too and that I’ve only known you for a few hours. I have this strange feeling that I’ve finally come home after a long journey.

"I feel like a moron," she finally said, blushing, "it's like I asked you to make my father an honest man."

She giggled, suddenly embarrassed by her behavior. Jaskier smiled widely.

"That's what you asked me."

They both burst into laughter

"However, I can't imagine leaving after this murder story is over if that's what you're worried about," he said, when their laughter died, "just thinking about it, I feel like my heart is being torn out. I don't know how I'm going to do between my life and here, but I'll manage."

Ciri shook her head and she leant back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest, as she thought about it."It's strange all the same. The witchers are very wary creatures who don't bond easily and yet, Lambert and my father are already fond of you. But they are very instinctive. I wonder what Uncle Eskel thinks about it."

Jaskier yawned.

"Sorry, today’s been a long day."

She dismissed his apologies with a wave of her hand.

"It's up to me to apologize. I forget that not everyone is used to living with witchers. Come on, I'll show you where you're going to sleep tonight."

They left the cafeteria without noticing that their conversation had been watched. The strange conversation left Eskel thoughtful. Ciri was right, Geralt didn't get close to people easily. But when he let someone into his life, he gave himself, heart and soul. Geralt did not do things in half measures. Lambert hated people. The horrors of the first years of his life had made him suspicious of everyone. The only one who had successfully passed his walls was Geralt and by extension his family. And this musician had burst into their life and everyone had accepted him without thinking twice. Even he liked the kid. He had to discuss it with Yennefer and Vesemir.


	12. Chapter 12

“ _What if it wasn't a werewolf?_ ”

Geralt's eyes snapped open as Lambert's words echoed in his mind.

With the madness of the day before, he had forgotten the relevant remark of the young witcher.

His mind freed from the presence of the musician, he remained in his bed for a moment turning the words over in his head. Most of the evidence in the case pointed to a werewolf. However, there were pieces of evidence that told of something else. First, the crimes took place at varied times. But werewolves didn't change unless under the full moon. He was well aware of spells that could cause the transformation, but in those cases, the _victim_ lost control. However, their killer had precisely chosen his victims and killed only one at a time.

In Oxenfurt, the crimes had all taken place on a full moon evening. What had changed?

And was it really the same killer?

He was certain it was, and yet, the evidence indicated something else entirely. Their only common point was the musician. Common sense would have him suspect Julian Pankratz. His instinct, however, pointed to him as the trigger for the killer's madness.

A rejected lover?

Had the musician refused his advances?

Geralt gnashed his teeth. He didn't like to think of the musician's old conquests. It made him want to bare his teeth and snarl loudly. He repelled these ugly feelings. He didn't have time for this.

He needed to know everything about Julian's life over the past five years.

The witcher stood up and grabbed his cell. The best person he knew for this kind of work was Ciri. Nothing would escape her on social media and Jaskier was a highly sociable creature. He was pretty sure his whole life was online.

He sent a message to his daughter.

When he received a small thumbs-up image in return, he dropped his phone on the bed and got ready for the day.

It was only when he left his room that he heard a noise in the apartment. Someone was humming softly in the kitchen and by the smell that spread throughout the apartment, they were also making pancakes.

Geralt didn't have time to worry, recognizing the voice immediately. Jaskier was in his apartment, making pancakes, at dawn.

He didn't remember ordering that the musician had to be accommodated in his home. In view of the results of yesterday's experiment, Eskel must have thought it best to keep the musician close to his colonel.

A small smile stretched the witcher's lips as he entered the kitchen. Jaskier was humming in front of the stove, busy making the pancakes.

His gaze rolled over his body, strangely attracted by the slow swinging of the hips, in rhythm with the humming. It was curiously domestic. Geralt should have been annoyed by the presence of this stranger in his space. He was not. A gentle warmth invaded his chest at the vision that was offered to him and he had to control himself to avoid joining the musician, placing his hands on his hips and kissing the crook of his neck.

A low rumble echoed in his chest to see his _mate_ so comfortable in his space. It would take him a lot of effort not to impose the feelings that swelled in his chest on the musician. He knew Jaskier wanted him. He had smelled his arousal in the lab. But it wasn’t beyond simple physical needs. The wolf in him demanded everything. His body, his heart, his soul.

It was madness, even for him. He was used to behaving like an animal when it came to feelings. But the others were, too! His whole pack was made up of mutated creatures, almost half-human, half-animal, and the witches, outcasts themselves, understood them. They understood each other beyond words.

What drove him to Jaskier was beyond that. Even with Lambert, with whom he was bound by an oath, it had taken them time to create the bond of brotherhood they had today.

With Jaskier—all it had taken was a smell and sharing a gaze.

"You should sit down, it's almost ready."

The witcher raised a surprised eyebrow.

He was sure he had made no noise—he never made a sound when he was moving—and the young man was facing the opposite wall.

How did he know he was there?

Jaskier then turned and smiled.

"Don't look at me like that, I felt your gaze on my neck. Sit. It's ready."

"Hm."

The witcher obeyed and installed himself at the small table which was in the corner of the room. Pancakes, bacon, and eggs were placed in front of him.

"I didn't really know what you prefer to eat in the mornings… "

Geralt was no longer listening to him. He took a good portion of everything, just making sure there was enough left for the musician.

Jaskier beamed at him and went back to the stove.

It was good.

Geralt ate his breakfast with pleasure. He was used to having a quick coffee at home and then going down to the mess hall for something more filling. He didn't cook when he was alone and since Ciri no longer lived with him, he hadn't eaten any homemade breakfast in a while.

His inner wolf howled with pleasure.

His mate made sure of his well-being.

Geralt held back a sigh. This whole story was going to be complicated.

The musician joined him and ate, talking between two mouthfuls. Geralt could feel his contentment. His scent was sweeter, more flowery than usual. He growled and stood up abruptly. He had to go out, get away from the musician before making a mistake.

"Something wrong?"

The bitterness that tinted his smell made him groan low in his throat. Conflicting feelings were fighting in his chest. Finally, the wolf won the game. He went around the table and wrapped the musician in his arms.

"Nothing. It was good. I have to go," he whispered, his nose against his neck. "You stay here for now. I'm sending Lambert to you."

Jaskier tensed then let go in his arms.

"Okay, but I need to get some of my things from my house."

Geralt raised his head, his eyes narrowed. He didn't like the idea of Jaskier going back to his apartment. Too dangerous with the killer in the wild.

However, locking him up here was not the right solution either.

"I'll see what I can do."

He made an effort and stepped back. Then, after a nod, he left his apartment, forgetting to take his weapons with him.

Jaskier dropped into the chair, confused by the witcher’s behavior.

*

In his office, Geralt delved into the file. Yennefer had sent him a full report on the victims and the results of the analyzes. Nothing seemed to give new leads.

He had the crux of the problem in his hand. Jaskier was the heart of the matter, but he couldn't find a solution. He very much hoped that Ciri would have answers for him.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Come in."

An elegant man in his thirties entered the colonel's office. Istredd was the partner of Coën, the witcher who had been killed in Oxenfurt. Still young, Coën was the only one to face the killer from Oxenfurt and he died of his injuries without regaining consciousness. Istredd had tried to invade his mind before he died. What he saw there traumatized him and he retired from active duty when his partner died. He has since worked under the direction of Vesemir's partner Tissaia de Vries, who headed the field research section.

"Colonel."

Geralt nodded and invited him to sit down.

"I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."

Istredd smirked.

"The site was never completely abandoned and I spent a few years there. Here are my notes from the time."

Geralt took the notebooks that the mage held out to him.

"Something about mutagens?"

"About the mutagens? No, not really. On the other hand, the site shelters the tomb of an Elder and his familiar. I suppose that it is from his remains that the mutagens were extracted."

Geralt tilted his head.

"His familiar?"

Istredd crossed his fingers in front of him.

"We know very little about the Elders. Ancestors of the elves we know today, they had access to a magic source of which we still know nothing. We suppose that they were able to summon creatures from 'other worlds.’ Like this familiar.”

The witcher felt a migraine coming on.

"See to that with Yen. She's the specialist."

The mage stood up and Geralt returned his notes.

"You know," the mage said before going out, "if you have genes from this familiar, it would not be silly to think that the young man who helped you yesterday has the blood of the Elder. We know that it takes a very powerful oath of blood to bind one creature to another. One can quite imagine that the bind endures in the blood of its descendants. "

Istredd smiled knowingly and left the room.

Geralt stayed staring at the door for a long time. It was an interesting explanation that deserved attention. It explained the strange power that Jaskier had over his mutation, but not why he considered the musician as his mate.

The witcher filed this problem away for later.

This story had just given him an idea. Everything indicated a werewolf in this case. But not a normal werewolf. And he knew there was at least one spell that could force the transformation. The question was: was there a way that a normal person could turn into a werewolf when he wanted to? Without losing his mind?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the name of Vesemir's partner. For an unknown reason, I didn't think about Trissaia at the time I was writing the 12th chapter. It occurred to me yesterday that Tissaia was the best choice for Vesemir's partner than Philippa.  
> That's not really important but still.  
> Enjoy your reading ;)

It was not until later in the afternoon that Eskel managed to reunite his family in his office. Yennefer was sitting upright on the chair facing him. Triss occupied the corner of his table while Vesemir was against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. Ciri was the last to arrive and the young woman arrived breathlessly.

"Sorry, I tried to get Lambert to come, but Dad assigned him to Jaskier. Couldn't get him out of his position."

"It doesn't matter, I guess he’s explained to you what happened in my office yesterday morning."

Ciri nodded.

He put his hands flat on his desk and stood up.

"We are facing a strange problem. Julian Pankratz has a strange power over Geralt and our dear colonel doesn't have enough of a clear mind to think about it." He raised his hand when Ciri opened her mouth to protest. "I am not saying it is a bad thing. I am saying that we need to take precautions. We hardly know anything about this young man."

Yennefer frowned.

"You feel as we do, don't you?"

"Yes, and you, Vesemir?"

The old witcher nodded.

"You realize that this is not normal. Lambert being sensitive to it is one thing; he is oath-related to Geralt. But we? We are what is closest to a family for Geralt, but we are neither bound by blood, nor by any oath. "

"You're wrong, boy," Vesemir cut him off, stepping away from the wall. "You and I share something fundamental with Geralt: our mutagens. In the case of Lambert, it makes their oath even stronger."

"Me too," Ciri said, "Geralt vowed to raise me like his daughter when my father asked him to be my Godfather.."

Yennefer and Triss shared a look and chuckled.

"You're the one closest to Geralt and even you don't know how he works," Yennefer teased gently, addressing the witchers. "None of this is why we are all related to Geralt. You cannot see it, but Geralt is a pure heart. His aura is white like the coat of a unicorn. And like the magical creature, his chosen ones are bound to him. It's a magical bond."

The two witchers looked at her as if horns had just grown out of her head. She shook her head, amused.

"Eskel, you’re his brother in a way that blood would never have allowed. Same for you Vesemir, his father. Like Triss and I are his sisters or Ciri is his daughter. Lambert is his brother too. We  _ are _ his family."

A long silence fell on the room.

"I didn't see it," Ciri murmured with a tiny voice.

Yennefer took her hand in hers.

"If you don't know where to look, you won’t be able to. Concentrate and let your Chaos invade you."

Ciri obeyed and when her magic started to vibrate around her, Yennefer told her to open her eyes.

"See it?"

A thin white ribbon connected them to each other and spun out of the room through the ground, towards the east. His father must have been in the interior courtyard.

"Fuck."

The older witcher growled, low in his chest. Eskel looked at him surprised but was careful not to make the slightest comment when seeing the eyes of his mentor—dad?‚ shine.

"I thought you understood it," Yennefer offered in an almost-apology. "It was so obvious that we were closer to each other than members of any other unit that I never thought of telling you about it."

The old witcher shook his head.

"We knew. Sort of. We are his pack and Geralt acted like an Alpha wolf with us. For us, it was the expression of his mutation. I didn't know it was so deep."

As obvious as his emotion was, his voice didn't shake.

"And," added Yennefer, "it might be even more than that." Then she put what she had in her hand on the table. An old notebook. "Istredd came to see me earlier. What do you know about the Legend of the White Wolf?"

Ciri hastened to recite what she knew about the White Wolf and his companion. It was the story of a woman accompanied by a white wolf and who, after many battles against monsters born from the conjuncture, managed to bring peace to the ancient races. The witchers were the ones who had resumed the White Wolf fight.

"That's right. It could be that the creature from which the additional mutagens that were administered to Geralt were drawn could be the White Wolf."

Eskel frowned.

"What makes you say that?"

"Istredd studied the site where the mutagens came from. The grave of an Elder and her familiar had been discovered there. Experiments yesterday showed that the additional mutagens only amplified those of wrag. The assumption that the other creature is a wolf form is likely. Added to Geralt's white aura... "

Everyone took time to digest the new information that had just fallen on them.

"It doesn't solve the question: what do we do with the kid?"

Triss patted Eskel on the shoulder.

"Don't you understand? Julian is probably the descendant of the Elder. The bond which unites him to Geralt is beyond what we share with him and that is why we feel attracted to him too."

Eskel winced.

"It's worse than I imagined," he sighed, running a hand across his face.

Yennefer and Vesemir nodded.

"We'll have to make sure everything goes well," whispered the witch, fingers making small circles on her forehead.

*

The witch tower was probably the most hated place for witchers in Kaer Morhen. An entire building intended for magic, and it also housed the laboratories. For a witcher, this place was full of pain. For a witch or a mage, it was a treasure cave. The tower housed one of the world's largest witchcraft libraries. There was a copy of each spell and each potion of the Continent in it.

Geralt went there more often than he wanted to. Yennefer had her office and her laboratory there. This time, however, he wasn't there to see his partner. He plunged into the basement, towards one of the least visited places in the whole valley: the black magic department.

The Mages and Witches of W.I.T.C.H.E.R. were not allowed to use it, but the knowledge it held made it possible to put an end to cruel curses or to find antidotes to the deadliest poisons. And it was this knowledge that he needed. So he went to see Fringilla Vigo, the enigmatic witch at the head of the black magic department.

He hardly knew her. Partner of one of the teachers of the training academy, they had little reason to cross paths. Like him, Fringilla kept contact to a minimum.

So she looked at him in surprise when he entered her laboratory.

"Colonel de Rivia? What an honor!" she said, sarcastic.

She continued to pour a strange transparent liquid on a black stone. The latter hissed loudly before exploding.

"Damn it!" she hissed before turning to him. "What do you want, Colonel?"

She was not particularly happy to see her space invaded and didn't hesitate to make it feel to her unwanted visitor.

"I need your help, Master Vigo."

She raised a dubious eyebrow, then pointed to a chair further in the room. Geralt accepted the offer and settled in, watching her remove her gloves and wash her hands before joining him.

"I'm listening."

"I would like to know if there is a spell, a potion that allows a werewolf or a normal person to transform himself willingly without losing his mind."

Her eyes narrowed and she was silent for a moment, fingers crossed under her chin.

"Surely," she ends up answering. "In absolute terms, it shouldn't take a lot of research or magic to get there. In the case of a werewolf, I mean. It's just about forcing something that already exists. For normal human beings, I doubt it. "

"Hm."

The witcher would have liked a firm response.

"Could you check if it already exists?"

She sighed, annoyed.

"I don't really have time for this kind of theoretical research right now, Colonel."

He glared.

"This is not a theoretical question. I have two murders in Novigrad and four others in Oxenfurt. And the evidence suggests that a werewolf is guilty and that he can transform himself at will. "

Her green eyes sparkled.

"Oh? A real case? How interesting. Look, let me examine the bodies. If I find a little saliva from your werewolf, maybe I can do something about it."

"The bodies are in Novigrad. At the morgue."

He got up, eager to take leave as soon as possible. This place gave him goosebumps.

*

Geralt had felt the need to see Jaskier as soon as he left Fringilla's laboratory. All the time he had spent crossing the fortress to return home, he had thought about this curious feeling. He was not used to the feverish thrill that ran through his skin, this impatience in his core. He needed to feel him, to smell him, to drown himself in Jaskier's warmth.

He had felt want, even love in the past. But that was so much more than that and he needed to be careful to not get lost in it. However, he didn't entertain the thought of avoiding this urgent need.

When he closed the door to his apartment behind him, he released a breath he hadn't been aware he’d been holding and a smile blossomed on his lips when he heard singing.


	14. Chapter 14

Heavy clouds were gathered on the horizon. Kaer Morhen's inner courtyard was swept by cold gusts of wind and it was hard to remember that it was the middle of spring.

Jaskier shivered in his little sweater, embarrassed. Yennefer stood beside him, dressed in a beautiful lace shirt over skin-tight-thin pants, and didn't seem to be bothered by the low temperatures.

They were waiting for Geralt.

The witch was showing signs of impatience. Arms crossed over her chest, her fingers were drumming on her arm and her foot was tapping the ground.

The musician didn’t dare to speak. The witch impressed him. Although shorter than him despite her high heels, he seemed to be ridiculous next to her. She made him feel ugly and awkward.

Jaskier didn't quite understand why she and Geralt weren't together. If there was anything he had noticed during the past twenty-four hours was that witcher-witch peers usually ended up together. It was not surprising, it was just a common happening in this kind of partnership. After all, the person you worked with was the one you know best.

"You’re thinking too loudly, Julian"

The young man blushed furiously and looked away.

"Sorry."

Oh, it was getting awkward. It was time for the colonel to show up before Jaskier died of shame.

"Don't be. But don't forget that you are surrounded by witches and witchers. If you want to keep your thoughts to yourself, you will have to learn to hide them."

Jaskier frowned. What? Why was he going to have to learn to hide his thoughts?

"Ah, there you are, finally!"

The musician forgot what he was thinking about when he saw the colonel coming. Damn him—he was breathtaking in his Kevlar armor. Not a part of his body was left to the imagination. Each piece was adjusted to perfection, giving the witcher a complete freedom of movement. He looked like a predator and the swords that beat against his lower back didn't help.

"Did you forget that not  _ all _ of us are designed for such low temperatures?"

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

"Hm."

Yennefer sighed.

"You are hopeless, my poor friend."

She opened the portal that was to lead them to Novigrad.

"Go ahead before our guest dies of cold."

Jaskier had the pleasure of seeing the colonel's face contract briefly with embarrassment.

"Call me when you want me to reopen the portal."

Geralt suddenly turned to his partner.

"It's no—You have to come with me."

The witch pursed her lips.

"Oh please, my dear. He'll be with you. He's much more effective than any pair of handcuffs. And you're just going to get some of his things, not to take down a vampire nest. Go ahead, I haven't got all day."

He groaned as the musician walked through the portal.

Jaskier sighed with contentment as he set foot in his apartment, despite the faint nausea caused by the passage of the portal. It felt good to be in his space again, even if it was obvious that someone had rummaged through his things.

"Your men?" he asked, pointing to the clutter in the living room.

The witcher passed by him without a word and looked in each room, his face closed.

"No," he groaned when he was next to the musician again.

An unpleasant shiver ran through Jaskier's spine but before he even had time to panic, the witcher's hand rested on the side of his neck, his thumb on his jaw.

"I'm here."

Jaskier gasped softly at the intense look in the golden eyes and his heart beat a little louder. There was a warmth in that look that caused him great emotion.

He smiled to hide it and looked away.

"Yeah. Sure. I'm going… I'm going to get my things."

Jaskier pulled away from the witcher and rushed to his room.

"Hm."

Out of sight of the colonel, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He touched his neck, where he still felt the warmth of his hand.

In the other room, Geralt had grabbed his cell phone.

"We will need another team at Mister Pankratz's apartment. I want them to be thorough, this time."

He hung up.

What an idiot!

The musician made him lose his mind and his work had been spoiled.

"Geralt!" whined the musician, his voice slightly higher than usual.

He rushed into the room and discovered a real battlefield. Everything had been returned. The dresser cupboard and drawers had been emptied to the floor, the mattress was crooked, and the books had been thrown across the room.

The witcher's nostrils flared in anger.

It was too much for Jaskier. Since Emilia's death, the world seemed to collapse around him. His lungs and throat tightened, preventing his breathing, and his eyesight blurred. He had been going from strong emotion to strong emotion for days and now, someone had attacked the only place where he’d felt good.

"Fuck."

The colonel's hands trapped his cheeks and forced him to look him straight in the eyes. Obsidian black eyes.

"You are safe. With me. Breathe."

Jaskier gasped, forcing his breathing to synchronize with the witcher’s. His hands gripped the colonel's wrists forcefully, looking for an anchor, something to get out of the emotional whirlwind that overwhelmed him.

"Look at me. Breathe. Nothing will happen to you. You're safe."

The hoarse voice echoed in his ears and suddenly he collapsed in the colonel's arms. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he breathed the witcher's scent.

Geralt hugged him and rocked him gently. If the situation wasn't so dire, he would have smiled. He hadn't cradled anyone since Ciri.

A noise in the living room made him tense.

"Colonel?"

Geralt tightened his grip on the musician who had suddenly tensed too.

"Here."

Letho appeared in the doorway a few seconds later. He recoiled as he discovered his colonel's all-black gaze and the veins that were starting to darken on his skin.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, his hands raised.

"No," replied Geralt dryly. "Do what you have to do. Call me when it's over."

Letho didn't argue. He felt the overwhelming tension in the room and knew what he would risk if the colonel was pushed too far. Normally, Letho would have had no problem taking Geralt in combat. He was more powerful than the colonel, but slower too. But he was completely ignorant of what was going on and preferred not to find out.

He nodded curtly and stepped aside to let the colonel and Mr. Pankratz out of the room. Other witchers were there, accompanied by their partners.

Sile, Letho's partner, took a step towards them.

"You need help?" she asked softly.

"No."

She raised her hands in surrender to Geralt's aggressive tone and stepped aside.

The witcher led Jaskier into the kitchen.

"Feel better?"

The young man nodded against his chest.

"Good. They'll look in the apartment, see if they can find something. We're going out. Is there somewhere you want to go?"

Jaskier looked up and pulled away from the witcher. He sighed, relieved to see his veins return to a normal color.

"Sorry, I... It's a lot to handle."

He tried to smile but it didn’t reach his eyes.

The distress of his mate ebbed and Geralt did not feel entitled to take him again in his arms. He stifled the urgent need to protect him, which was blooming in his chest as the musician opened the tap and slashed it over his face, trying to get his head straight.

He watched the tension in his shoulders disappear and when Jaskier turned to him again, there was no trace of tears or panic.

He looked at him, thoughtful.

"Thank you. I'm not in the habit of breaking like this, but this is too much. I don't know what this guy wants with me and it makes me nervous." His gaze shifted to the door before returning to the witcher. "By the time your men do what they have to do, I would like to see Priscilla. I worry a lot about her and..."

Geralt grunted his assent and grabbed his cell phone. A few seconds' phone call to Auckes and he knew where the young woman was.

"Rosemary and Thyme."

A genuine smile stretched the young man's lips.

"You are not a talkative, are you?"

"Hm."

Jaskier's laugh eased the anguish that crawled on Geralt's nerves and he felt his skin and eyes returning to their original state.

The young man approached him and put a hand on his arm.

"Let's go."

A short sigh escaped the witcher and he followed Jaskier out of the apartment.


	15. Chapter 15

As usual, the "Rosemary and Thyme" cabaret was empty at this time of day. When Jaskier entered, followed by Geralt, the few customers turned to them and their eyes widened at the sight of the witcher.

"Jaskier! You son of—" shouted Priscilla, rushing towards her friend and stopping straight at the tall figure of the colonel.

The musician didn't hesitate. Happy to see his friend in perfect health, he hugged her.

"Gods, you're fine!" he sighed, his nose tucked into her long blond hair.

Surprised, the young woman returned his embrace then stepped aside, nervous.

"What's going on!" she asked him, pulling him towards the bar, a bit angry. "Emilia is murdered and the same day that the TV announces another murder you disappear! I was worrying myself sick!"

Her big blue eyes shone as much with anger as with anguish.

"It's complicated," Jaskier tried, glancing at his companion who had sat at the table of a hooded fellow.

When he saw him speak to him, he deduced that it must have been the other witcher, Auckes, to whom Geralt had entrusted the protection of his friend.

"But you'd better explain it to me! You're coming in with a witcher and that fishy guy has been following me since yesterday!"

Jaskier bit his lip. He leaned toward her.

"The killer," he whispered, "he came to my house. So I'm under protection."

The young woman gasped softly.

"You’re fucking kidding." 

He shook his head.

"The murderer seems to be killing everyone I’ve spent a night with."

Priscilla turned white and her gaze drifted towards the hooded man.

"Is that why he's here? Is he a witcher too?"

Jaskier nodded.

"He should stay with you until the killer is arrested."

The young woman sighed.

"He's stupid. He could have told me. He’s kept me scared since yesterday. And do they have an idea of who it can be?"

"No, they don't. I have to admit it's starting to really scare me. My apartment was ransacked."

Priscilla took his hand, noticing that he was shaking slightly.

"You'll be fine. You have a witcher as a bodyguard." She said, smiling weakly.

Jaskier's gaze fell on Geralt's back.

"Yeah, I know..."

The young woman looked at his friend and raised an eyebrow.

"You like him."

Jaskier snapped his head to her.

"What?"

She chuckled.

"Don't even try to deny it. I’ve never seen you look at someone like that. It's cute."

His gaze went from the young woman to the witcher then returned to his friend. He sighed heavily.

"Yeah, I think I do."

She tightened her fingers on his.

"You make it sound like it's a bad thing. He looks like a good, handsome, intimidating, and slightly scary man."

Jaskier smiled.

"Yeah, he is but... he's a witcher, Prisc', I'm just a street musician. Why would a man like him care about me?"

The young woman pursed her lips and shook her head.

"Because you are the most wonderful man I know! You're handsome, funny, clever and you are a wonderful singer."

His smile widened. The compliment touched his heart, but he wasn't convinced that he was enough for a man like Colonel de Rivia.

Auckes snickered.

"You have a fan colonel."

The glare that Geralt threw him made him lose all desire to have fun with the situation. He lowered his head slightly to the side, submitting to his superior. He might be a witcher in the Viper section, but he preferred to stay on good terms with Colonel de Rivia.

Before this short break, Auckes had his report to the colonel. No one suspicious had approached the young woman and he had not left her for a second since the day before. He had only allowed himself a short meditation session at dawn, once the certainty of a potential danger had passed.

Geralt was satisfied that Jaskier's friend was still in good health, but that didn't help his investigation. An attack, even if Auckes had been ordered not to confront the killer and to take the young woman to a safe place, may have provided them with a lead.

Geralt hated inaction, and this kind of investigation made him cringe. Waiting for the results of exams, fingerprints, DNA, cross-checking of information wasn't for him. There was a reason that he dealt primarily with coordinated raids on known monster nest positions, the work of investigations generally falling on other sections.

Again, he had to wait. The lack of action weighed on him and without the presence of the young musician, he would certainly have taken care of another case while waiting for the results of primary research.

"Colonel."

"Hm?"

Auckes glanced quickly at the bar.

"I know it's not my business, but this guy, who is he?"

Geralt didn't need to ask who he was talking about. He hadn't missed the look he had given to Jaskier.

"The killer attacks his one-night-stands."

The witcher raised an eyebrow.

"Oh! I understand better why I’m protecting the girl. Well, he has good taste."

Geralt couldn't help the groan that rolled down his throat.

"Colonel, I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, but aren't you too involved in this case? I mean, emotionally speaking?"

Auckes flinched at the intensity of the colonel's gaze. Perhaps he had gone too far. He straightened up in his seat, in case the colonel decided to teach him his place. Talking emotion with a witcher was slippery ground.

But Geralt just groaned. He said nothing, as his subordinate wasn't fundamentally wrong. Jaskier clouded his judgment but the idea of abandoning the investigation to someone else annoyed him much more than the idea of waiting for the results of preliminary research. His inner wolf left him with no choice. He knew that abandoning Jaskier now was likely to trigger his mutation fully, and it was a risk he didn't intend to take.

His cell phone finally rang.

Letho must have finished at the apartment.

"Stay with her until further notice."

"Yes, sir."

Geralt groaned at the formality and stood up.

"Jaskier. Let’s go."

The musician sighed discreetly and leaned over to kiss Priscilla on the cheek.

"Be careful. Stay with the witcher."

Priscilla nodded.

"You too."

Jaskier joined the colonel and waved to her before leaving.

They took a few steps before Jaskier stopped and turned his head towards the bridge which crossed the Pontar.

"I have to go somewhere else before I go back to the apartment."

Geralt glanced over his shoulder at him.

"Where?"

Jaskier's eyes rolled up at the annoyed tone of his bodyguard.

"I do have a job, colonel. I need to speak with Mr. Vivaldi, my boss."

Geralt growled. They had to go back to Kaer Morhen. Novigrad wasn't safe for the young man.

"Fine."

They crossed the Pontar and were caught up in the crowd jostling in the streets. Tense, Geralt watched everyone passing by, his senses strained. On the way to the bank, several people greeted the young man, without however approaching or exchanging more than a few words.

Mr. Vivaldi was not difficult to see and the discussion between him and Jaskier lasted only a few minutes. The dwarf understood the situation and the presence of Colonel de Rivia at his side only reinforced his story. The banker simply asked him to come back to see him when he was finally free and of course, he wouldn't be paid for the missing days.

Jaskier left the bank, scowling. He knew he would lose his salary, but he had hoped for a gesture, something to help him.

"Can we go now?" growled the witcher, who was on high alert because of the market in the square.

"Yes, we can."

"Great."

He put a hand on the musician's lower back and led him through the crowd that was jostling around the stalls.

They didn't go further than two yards before someone called out the young man's name.

Jaskier turned and his face lit up.

"Valdo!"

Something in the witcher's chest clenched in the musician's smile. His inner wolf snapped at the walls of his mind in a low growl.

The musician graciously let himself be locked in the embrace of his former lover.

"I tried to call you several times yesterday and since I couldn't find you in the square this morning, I started to worry!"

"I'm sorry, Val'. I..." Jaskier hesitated, not quite knowing why. "I have other commitments that fell on me yesterday morning."

Valdo stepped back and looked briefly at the witcher.

"A problem?"

Jaskier shook his head quickly.

"Absolutely not. I was invited to play at Kaer Morhen. They heard me on the square..."

He left his sentence hanging, not wishing to push the lie further. He was embarrassed to lie to Valdo, but he didn't feel like telling him the truth either.

"How lucky!" Valdo chuckled. "I would love to visit this place! How many stories do they have that should be set to music!"

"You can't even imagine!" exclaimed Jaskier, more and more uncomfortable.

He could feel Geralt's heavy gaze on his back, which didn't help.

"Well, call me when you get back to Novigrad. We'll talk about it over dinner."

Jaskier blushed and nodded.

A low rumble alerted him. He turned his head to Geralt and his eyes narrowed. The witcher had his eyes on Valdo, his pupils were retracted and his mouth twisted into a strange grin, canines digging into his lip. Jaskier was not a fighter, but the way Geralt stood was obvious, it was the pose of a predator ready to attack his prey. Whatever the witcher felt, he had labeled it as a danger.

"I have to go," he said to Valdo, a fake smile stretching his lips wide. "I'll call you as soon as I'm back to Novigrad."

He took a step back but was held by the arm.

"Are you sure everything is fine?"

The rumble from Geralt’s chest intensified.

"Absolutely. He's just a little bit stressed by the crowd."

Jaskier released his arm from the grip of his former lover and advanced until he was at the colonel’s side. Gently, he put a hand on his breastplate.

"See you later," he said to Valdo before turning his full attention to Geralt. "We can go." He whispered, so as not to trigger a violent reaction.

The witcher didn't move.

Jaskier took a deep breath to calm the anguish that arose from the colonel's attitude. If he let himself go, he risked triggering the mutation and in the open market, on the main square of the city, that risked posing big problems.

His hand slipped from Geralt's chest to his cheek and he forced him to look at him. The witcher resisted as if his muscles were locked in this attack position.

"Geralt?"

Suddenly, his eyes snapped to his, and Jaskier's world was reduced to golden eyes. Something dangerous was dancing in the intense glare, something hot that made Jaskier whimper.

This sound brought the witcher back to reality. He grabbed the musician's arm and pulled him after him.

"What the fuck?" Jaskier yelped, confused by the witcher's behavior.

Geralt dragged him to his apartment, in silence, while the musician asked an onslaught of questions, trying to understand his sudden mood change.


	16. Chapter 16

The door slammed and Geralt shoved the musician against it. He was growling, the muscles of his jaws clenching under his skin.

"Who was  _ that _ ?" he growled, his gravelly voice sending shivers down Jaskier's spine.

"Wait—What?"

The young man was lost. The witcher had pressed him against the door, his body pressed against his, his hands clenching on his wrists. He was furious and Jaskier didn't understand why.

"Who was that guy?" repeated Geralt, in a lower dangerous tone.

This time the witcher's words reached the brain of the musician. He opened his mouth and closed it again, dumbfounded. The confusion slowly gave way to anger.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jaskier snarled.

He struggled to free himself from the grip of the witcher. Surprised, the colonel let go of him and the musician took the opportunity to escape him. Jaskier crossed the room and turned on his heel, as he shook in anger.

"I can't believe it," he sneered, "I was fucking worried and you're just  _ jealous _ ?!"

"I'm not!" bit back the witcher. "A monster killed your ex-lovers and you're flirting with the first person on the street!"

Jaskier's eyes widened.

"What?! I wasn't flirting with anyone!"

Geralt sneered.

"You almost threw yourself onto him!"

Jaskier was furious. How dare he judge him? Who was he to judge his behavior with his friends?

"Who do you think you are?" He yelled. "You burst into my life like a storm, you turn it upside down, and now, you dare to judge my behavior with my friends? Who the fuck do you think you are to me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked, I helped you with your witchering problem and—"

The witcher roared and a second later, Jaskier was against the wall, a furious witcher towering him.

"I didn't ask for this! If life could give me one blessing, it would be—"

"Don't you dare finish this sentence," hissed Jaskier between his teeth.

They stood there for a moment, eye to eye, both radiating anger.

And Jaskier saw it. The way the witcher's features contracted, the strange glare in his eyes, he saw it.

_ Pain, hurt, sadness. _

His anger died down.

He put a hand on Geralt's chest.

"What do you want to know?"

The colonel's features relaxed.

"Who was he?" he asked, his voice still low and gravely but somewhat softer.

Jaskier relaxed against the wall. For some reason, neither of them felt the need to move.

"Valdo is a former peer from my time in Oxenfurt. We did all of our studies together. We were together for almost two years."

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

"And now?"

He winced at the eager note in his own voice.

A small smile played on Jaskier's lips.

"Now? Nothing. I hadn't seen him since I moved to Novigrad. I saw him again two days ago, I didn't know he had been here for a month."

Geralt's eyes narrowed.

"When did you become lovers?"

The question took the musician by surprise.

"Why?"

The plain look he won made him giggle.

"Okay, don't get mad again. We got together at the end of our third year."

Geralt straightened up and stepped back, frowning.

"And you're saying he just moved to Novigrad? Where was he before?"

"Cindras. Why?"

Geralt didn't answer him. He grabbed his phone and called Eskel.

"I want an emergency meeting in an hour. Yes, with everyone and let Fringilla know, too. Yes, she's working on the case too."

He hung up and called Ciri.

"Did you find anything? No? Drop it and search for anything you can find on…” he turned to Jaskier, "What's his name?"

"Valdo Marx."

"Valdo Marx. Yes, all you can find in an hour. "

He hung up and put his phone away before turning to the musician.

Jaskier had suddenly turned pale and had a hand over his mouth.

"Jaskier?"

He looked up at him.

"You think ... Do you think it's him? It can't be… It can't be."

The witcher sighed and joined the musician.

"I'm sorry but… We're looking for someone who's obsessed with you. The killing in Oxenfurt stopped without explanation and started again without explanation either. What if he had stopped because he had what he wanted?"

Jaskier swallowed.

"Me."

Geralt nodded.

"Yes. You."

Jaskier felt sick. His stomach contracted and he ran to the bathroom where he threw up his breakfast.

A comforting hand was placed on his back.

"This is just an idea, Jaskier. Maybe I have it all wrong."

Jaskier huffed.

"Do you really believe it?" he asked when his stomach had been emptied.

Geralt pursed his lips.

The young man straightened up and rinsed his mouth.

"I'm going to go get my things."

The witcher let him go, without giving into the urge to take him and lock him in his arms. But their argument had made it clear at least one thing: the musician had accepted the idea that he needed him, but that he didn't have the same feelings. Jaskier was his mate, but he wasn't the musician's and what he had said in the bar didn’t change a thing. What was Jaskier feeling about him had nothing to do with what he felt for him.

He could only understand it. Geralt was no human and it had been more evident than normal in these past few days. He was an animal, governed by his instincts and the love he felt for Jaskier was just as animal as his need to protect his family,  _ his pack _ .

Humans didn't work that way. The desire they felt was instinctive, but not love. Love needed time, confidence, and getting to know each other in order to flourish.

A trembling sigh escaped him.

He wouldn't have time to earn Jaskier’s love. If this Valdo were their murderer, the case would soon be closed, and Jaskier would leave his life as quickly as he had entered it.

*

At the colonel's request, all of the team in the "Werewolf of Oxenfurt" affair were gathered in the conference room.

Sitting at the end of the table, Geralt looked at his colleagues one by one before settling on Ciri. With a nod, he asked her to start.

She stood up with her tablet in her hand and she dragged a photo onto the screen on the wall.

"Valdo Marx, twenty-five, born in Cindras. Graduated from the University of Oxenfurt last year. Concert violinist with the Cindras Harmonics since then. Recently resigned and disappeared until a few days ago in Novigrad. And last thing, he's the nephew of Kovir's mage Stregobor."

Everyone winced in the room except Jaskier, who had listened attentively to the young woman's presentation but didn't know who Stregobor was.

"Disappeared? He told me he had found a better job in Novigrad."

Ciri shook his head.

"I found no record of employment with his name in Novigrad, nothing more than an address."

Geralt nodded and his gaze fell on Fringilla. A predatory smile stretched the lips of the expert in black magic.

"We have a whole file on Stregobor. He has been under surveillance since Blakiven and his work on curses that affect human nature are scrutinized by a group of experts. If you are looking for someone capable of controlling the transformation of a werewolf, Stregobor is your man. "

The colonel groaned.

"And did you find something specific?"

The witch's smile widened.

"His work on lycanthropy started three years ago. Interesting coincidence, isn't it?"

Yennefer intervened.

"So are you suggesting that Valdo Marx is a werewolf who has the means to control his transformation?"

"Exactly," replied Geralt. "I see no other explanation."

They turned to Eskel. The latter moved his fingers on his tablet and a list of dates replaced the portrait of Valdo on the screen.

"Here are the exact dates of the Oxenfurt murders. If your assumption is correct, one might think that Valdo Marx became a lycanthrope the moon before the first murder."

All heads turned to Jaskier. The young man did not see them. His gaze was focused on the date list and he was trying to remember that time in his life.

"I don't know. We had classes together and mutual friends, but I didn't particularly hang out with Valdo before we got together."

He tilted his head, gazing off as he thought.

"That's right," he whispered, "We knew each other but we didn't have much interaction. How ..."

Strange, he was certain that his relationship with Valdo had just been natural, after years of being around each other. But he couldn't remember from a single time they had chatted outside of class.

"And the murders stopped on that date," continued the lieutenant-colonel.

Jaskier nodded, his stomach contracting as he read the date on the screen.

"We went out together three days later."

Geralt refrained from comforting the musician and turned his attention to Yennefer.

"How long till the results of the fingerprints found in the apartment and the DNA found on the corpses get here?"

"With a sample to compare, a few hours will be enough. And the laboratory has confirmed: the murderer from Oxenfurt is the same one from Novigrad."

No one in the room doubted it, but legal confirmation avoided the possibility of a lawyer destroying their case before a court.

"And how do we find him?" Lambert asked.

That was the question that was worth gold. Without a known address, it would take them forever to find their prey.

"I would say we just need for Jaskier to go out with someone else."

Geralt's eyes snapped to his partner.

"It's out of the question to put an innocent in danger," Geralt growled.

Yennefer got up and went to the musician.

"That’s not what I’m thinking." She turned to Jaskier. "Can I?"

The young man raised an eyebrow, not understanding what she wanted, but he nodded anyway. She then put a finger on his forehead and he gritted his teeth as a strange, almost painful sensation filled his head.

"That's what I thought," she said, removing her finger. "I was thinking about you in fact. Valdo has already seen you together and given your behavior, he would have no problem believing that you’re trying to sleep with our favorite musician."

Geralt felt his face heat up in shame and he thanked the Gods for being unable to blush. He didn't even dare to take a look at Jaskier, who hadn’t seemed to react to the witch's suggestion.

"It may be a crazy idea," said Eskel. "But I think it could work."

The colonel shook his head.

"I'm a witcher. Not sure if he'll attack me."

His friend's face darkened.

"He’s already killed one. Do you really think you being a witcher will stop him in his madness?"

Geralt sighed heavily. Their murderer was sure of his own power. Maybe they had a chance.


	17. Chapter 17

Yennefer's idea took two days to be implemented. The  _ performance _ part of the evening had been quickly scripted, but the protection that took the most effort and time. It was out of the question for Geralt to leave Jaskier unprotected and, during the evening, he himself would be without weapons or armor. He remained operational and dangerous, even naked, but without any real data on the strength of the killer, they could find themselves in a difficult situation if he chose to attack them the same evening.

It was therefore decreed that surveillance would be entrusted to the Letho section. Absolute discretion was required so the Vipers were the most suitable for the job.

To Geralt's surprise, Jaskier didn't contest to any point of the plan. It was decided that the musician would return home in the afternoon, giving the impression that he was alone, and that Geralt would meet him at the Rosemary and Thyme the same evening for a date.

They had hesitated for a long time in choosing a location to welcome their  _ show _ and Jaskier had raised an interesting point: he had met and seduced the two victims of Novigrad at Rosemary and Thyme. He didn't know if it mattered, but it was a choice criteria like any other.

The colonel felt ridiculous in these black linen pants and this same color shirt, not to mention the uncomfortable shoes he had on his feet. He was used to his Kevlar armor and when he wasn't wearing it, he was usually in jeans and T-shirt, not bothering with his general appearance. But Triss and Ciri had left him no choice. He had to be elegant for his date with Jaskier if he wanted it to appear credible. However, he refused to be shaved. The beard slightly softened his features. Ciri had just trimmed it and combed his hair back and tied it on the back of his neck.

Approaching the cabaret, the ridicule, and the embarrassment of the situation almost made him run away. He and Jaskier hadn't had time to discuss the conditions of the meeting and how they should behave with each other. Unaccustomed to this kind of exercise, Geralt felt particularly awkward.

He still heard advice from his daughter and Triss.

_ "Be gallant, smile at him, and don't be as distant as usual." _

_ "Compliment him, especially if he sings!" _

And he forgot some of them. But all this advice forgot one thing: it was not a real date. Where were the limits?

But the worst was certainly Eskel's advice before he passed the portal.

_ "Follow your gut, it's going to be fine." _

If his brother had a clue what his gut was whispering to him, he would probably have blushed like a young lady.

Because Geralt had a problem: how was he supposed to stay professional when the desire that tormented him was that all of this was real?

In front of the cabaret door, he took a deep breath and entered.

Jaskier had arrived early. Nervous at the idea of this pseudo-date with Geralt, he had been unable to stay at home until it was time to go.

After a long, delicately scented bath, he had chosen his most beautiful jacket for this date with Geralt, a black one, embroidered with golden flowers over its entire surface, magnificent on a white shirt and black pants. Because he intended to use this evening to properly seduce the witcher. Yennefer had been clear with him, he had to behave as usual when he was hitting on someone. It's up to him to make sure Geralt understood that this was not a comedy.

So he was particularly nervous. He didn't want to ruin his chances with the handsome colonel and the music would help him.

So he was an hour early at Rosemary and Thyme and had the chance to run into Priscilla who was to play the same evening.

So he was on stage with Priscilla, singing and playing guitar, when Geralt entered the cabaret.

Jaskier missed a note when he saw the witcher and he watched him until he was sat at the bar. He was more breathtaking than usual if it was possible. Priscilla's elbow went into his ribs and brought him back to reality. He was on stage, damn it! But his gaze kept drifting to the witcher and when their eyes caught each other’s, he felt a sudden pull of the strange bond that linked them. For the first time since playing on stage, Jaskier wanted to put his instrument down in the middle of the piece, without any regard for his audience, and to go to Geralt.

It was so strong that he had a hard time finishing the song he was playing. He didn't wait for a second to return the instrument to its rightful owner as soon as it was over and jumped off the stage to join the bar.

The witcher was partly turned towards him and Jaskier didn't hesitate to invade his personal space, coming to stand in between his legs.

"Geralt," said Jaskier, in a soft voice, placing a hand on the witcher's chest, "you look great tonight."

The colonel smirked, as his hand naturally found its place on the hip of the musician.

"Because I'm not usually?"

Jaskier's eyebrows rose in Geralt's amused tone. A relieved smile bloomed on the musician's lips as he leant to his ear.

"You always are handsome but tonight you're breathtaking. I'll have a hard time not to climb onto your lap in front of everyone," he said with a perfectly calculated, husky voice.

He straightened up and had the pleasure of seeing the witcher's pupil expand. He turned away from him, leaned on the bar, and called the waiter for a beer.

"You're a menace," he heard, sighed in his ear. "Is that how you seduce people?"

A cocky smile stretched the musician's lips as he looked over his shoulder.

"It works, doesn't it?" he asked, seeing the predatory air that adorned the witcher's features.

The latter completely relaxed and laughed. Jaskier's eyes widened in surprise. Geralt was a handsome man in his own way. With his hard-faced face, his strangely inhuman gaze, and his graceful and muscular body, the witcher was the very image of virile beauty. But the features relaxed with laughter, he was just gorgeous.

Jaskier's smile softened. He was glad that the colonel was well enough in his presence to relax like this. Maybe there was a chance for them in the middle of this whole mess?

His beer was finally served and he took a sip before turning to the witcher again.

_ "Follow your gut, it's going to be fine." _

Eskel's words echoed in Geralt's mind as the musician watched him from behind his long lashes. Jaskier seemed to be determined to play the game of seduction with him. Maybe Eskel had been right, maybe he had to let himself be carried away by what his inner wolf whispered to him.

His hand had naturally found its place on the hip of the musician when he had approached and that hadn't seemed to bother him. He slid his hand from Jaskier's hip to his lower back and pulled him closer.

"Yeah. It works," he confirmed, licking his suddenly dry lips.

The young man's eyes widened.

"Oh fuck," he sighed, as Geralt closed his thighs against his.

Something ignited in Jaskier's abdomen. Maybe because of the hungry way the witcher was looking at him or the ravenous smile on his lips, but he put his glass back on the counter and put his arms around the witcher's neck.

"That's the idea," Geralt breathed in turn, the plan forgotten as the scent of Jaskier's arousal reached his nose.

A low rumble echoed in his chest as he leaned into the musician and buried his nose in his neck. He inhaled the smell of honey deeply and allowed himself to be overcome by the desire it inspired in him. He licked the skin under his lips, savoring its taste.

"Ge... Geralt," moaned softly Jaskier in his ear. "It might be a good idea to go home"

_ Home. _

"Hm."

Fuck. His arms wrapped around the musician and he hugged him tightly. He would love a home with Jaskier, a place where they could live together and explore the curious bond between them. A place to love each other, a place to have their family ...

The rumble in his chest intensified at the thought of kids running around them. He never thought about kids. He did raise Ciri like his, but he never wanted kids on his own.

A finger caressing the line of his hair brought him back to reality and to the man in his arms.

"We should go," whispered Jaskier, "before your eyes turned completely black."

It was planned that they stayed a good part of the evening at the cabaret to be sure that Valdo Marx was aware of their little game. But they were very likely to be thrown out if they stayed longer. The raw desire that threatened to overwhelm the witcher and its consequences would probably not be to the liking of the owner of the cabaret.

He took out his wallet, paid for the two barely-touched beers, then stood up and pulled the musician after him, the latter chuckling.

Neither of them saw the person who looked up when they left, their lips wrinkled in a disgusted grimace.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I let a warning: this is the Smut chap'

Night had fallen and the street was uncrowded. With a killer in their city, the residents of Novigrad were reluctant to go out after dark.

A chance for Geralt, who had trouble keeping his hands to himself. Jaskier might never experience what he felt about him, but at least he would have him once.

His inner wolf yelped at the thought of uniting with his mate and Geralt gave way to his need. He felt the veins of his face pulsate, they must have turned black, just like his eyes that the musician kept looking at.

Impatient, he ended up grabbing Jaskier by the waist and pressing him against the wall, in the corner of a small courtyard. He didn't wait for the young man to understand what was happening to him and attacked his neck. He licked and gently bit the skin under his lips, pulling a trembling sigh from his willing victim.

Jaskier pulled on the witcher's hair, forcing him to straighten, and drawing out a soft groan.

"Kiss me," he whispered, his eyes almost as black as Geralt's.

The witcher stood still for a moment, eagerly observing the desire that blew the young man's pupils wide.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he breathed before leaning in and ravishing the mouth that had been tempting him for too long.

He growled loudly when Jaskier's lips parted for him. He wasted no time invading his mouth and savoring every corner.

Jaskier's moans were music to his ears and he wanted nothing more than to hear what other sounds he could get from his musician. He grabbed his thighs and hoisted him in his arms, tugging his legs around his waist.

A keen moan responded to his gesture when their cocks, stretched against the canvas of their pants, rubbed against each other.

Geralt rolled his hips against the young man to hear it again.

Jaskier pulled away, panting hard.

"We... We should go. I'm not going to last long," he moaned as the witcher rolled his hips again.

The witcher grunted this time.

"Hang on."

Jaskier looked at him, behind his long lashes.

"I can still walk, you know" he giggled, a cocky smile on his lips.

A predatory smile flourished on Geralt's lips.

"I don't want to walk, I want to show off. Hang on."

It was ridiculous, the witcher knew it, especially with the clothes he wore, but his wolf needed to show to his mate he could protect him. It was all instinct, but Geralt had decided to let go for the night.

As soon as Jaskier secured his arm around his neck and his legs around his hips, Geralt folded his legs and jumped.

"Oh fuck!" yelped the young man in his arms as the witcher grabbed the edge of the roof and hoisted them effortlessly onto it.

They were no longer very far from Jaskier's apartment and Geralt remembered the configuration of the buildings and the best way to get there by roof. He ran over the tiles, sure-footed, an arm securing Jaskier's body against his own.

The young man remained silent throughout his demonstration. He just felt his breath against his neck and the speed of his heart's beat against his chest.

When he was above the apartment, he didn't slow down. In his report, Letho had mentioned that the bedroom window was no longer locked. He jumped and grabbed the ledge of the roof, and with an abrupt stroke of his hips, they landed on the balcony. With a blow of the shoulder, he pushed through the window and he fell on the ground, Jaskier on him.

Geralt was proud of him and of his mate. Not for a moment had Jaskier's scent been tinged with fear. He had trusted him, all along.

Without looking up from his neck, the young man chuckled.

"That was ridiculous, wasn't it?" he breathed on the witcher's skin, sending a heat wave down his body.

Geralt slipped a hand through the short brown hair. He wanted to see his eyes, but Jaskier kissed his throat and the witcher groaned.

"But it was hot," he whispered in his ear. "Take me to bed, Witcher."

Geralt didn't give him time to ask again. With a supple movement he straightened up on his feet, the musician still in his arms and led him to the bed where he laid him down delicately. Haloed with a crown of brown hair, his cheeks adorned with red and his eyes narrowed with desire, Jaskier was breathtaking.

The witcher suppressed the urgent need to feel his skin against his and knelt at his feet. Slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, he took off the musician's shoes, then his socks, before placing a knee on the bed, between his parted thighs. His hands slowly caressed his legs, feeling the muscles contract under his touch.

"Geralt," the musician moaned softly, "come here."

He shook his head. He wanted to touch everywhere, wanted to feel everything. His hands wandered on Jaskier's body, eliciting sudden sighs or short whines as he touched a particularly sensitive spot. Geralt memorized them all and promised to find them again when the musician was naked, writhing with pleasure under him.

He straightened up and held out his hand. Jaskier didn't hesitate and let him straighten him in a sitting position. This allowed the witcher to remove his jacket and shirt, which he gently placed on the floor behind him. He also withdrew him and forced the young man to lie down again, following him down and he kissed him, with all the passion he inspired in him.

His inner wolf took the lead.

His lips and his tongue wandered along Jaskier's jaw, neck, chest, licking, kissing, biting the skin, lightly groaning as he marked over his mate's body.

Jaskier's moans rose in the room, his breathing catching as Geralt bit lightly his ribs and it turned to loud prayers when his lips caught the belt of his pants.

Geralt didn't waste time. He straightened up and took off the pants and underwear that still covered his companion's body and threw them without caring where they landed.

He wanted him.

Now.

"Fuck," groaned Jaskier when a wet tongue touched his prick.

The wolf feasted on his mate's body. He sucked him fervently, savoring his taste, his scent before turning him over on his stomach and diving between his buttocks. He ate him out, leaving the young man wet and loose, his body trembling and his voice wrecked by his pleasured screams.

Jaskier was sobbing, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

"Please, fuck me. Now!"

Geralt straightened up and got rid of the rest of his clothes, then pressed his body against that of his companion.

He bit him gently on the shoulder, attracting another muffled complaint.

"Lube?"

"Nightstand."

The witcher recovered what he needed and prepared his companion. He no longer had the patience to take this slowly. When he was sure that Jaskier was ready, he turned him over on his back and settled between his thighs. He kissed him, deeply, as he pushed into his body.

A low growl rolled in his chest as Jaskier struggled to breathe between two loud moans.

"Are you okay?" He asked when their hips were united.

"Oh fuck! You're big. Move, you brute!"

"As you wish," he growled as he began to move.

The feeling was beyond anything Geralt’d ever experimented with. He felt the deep connection they shared. It was hotter, deeper, more pleasurable than anything he ever had done.

He straightened up onto his knees, taking Jaskier with him. He needed to take him in his arms, to feel him completely against him.

They kissed with the same passion with which they united, drinking each other breaths, each other’s moans. And when they’d orgasmed, Jaskier was wearing the same black lines on his face as Geralt.

They stayed together for a moment, Jaskier on Geralt's lap, catching their breath as they kissed softly, lovingly.

They said nothing as the witcher rearranged them under the sheets. Jaskier knew that if he opened his mouth he would have confessed his love. He preferred not to spoil the moment and leaned against Geralt's body, ready to fall asleep.

When the musician's breathing had calmed, he looked at his mate’s face, wondering why he had briefly shown the same black line as his own. He sighed deeply. They would have to talk about it in the morning, and Yennefer might have to take a look at his mate. Geralt wasn’t happy to subject Jaskier to his partner’s experiments but it seemed necessary.

Now wasn’t the time to think about it. He placed a brief kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Sleep well, mate of mine."

*

An incongruous noise woke Geralt in the middle of the night. The continuous buzz informed him that it was his phone. Holding back an annoyed growl, he pulled himself out of Jaskier's embrace and stood up. He found his phone in his pants pocket and left the room to answer.

"What?" he growled, his voice low, sleepy.

It was Eskel.

"The beast attacked last night. Auckes is in the hospital wing, injured."

"Fuck! The girl?"

"Shocked but she's fine. She's with Triss."

Geralt sighed.

"Give me two minutes and send Lambert and Ciri here. I don't want Jaskier to be alone."

The plan had been that they would stay in Novigrad, show themselves during the day to make sure they were seen, and in the evening, Geralt would walk, apparently alone, through the city.

This attack proved that the killer had seen them, but it somewhat altered the plan.

He hung up and began to dress in silence. He could wake Jaskier up, but now was not the time to deal with a panicked man. He needed to have a clear mind. So he placed a brief kiss on the corner of his mouth and let him sleep.

A wave of magic informed him that the portal was open. He left the room and faced Lambert and his daughter.

"Be careful," he said, nodding to the bedroom door. "And take him to his friend when he wakes up."

Both nodded in return and Geralt went through the portal.

In the morning, Jaskier woke up, a small smile on the corners of his lips. His body was deliciously sore. He still felt Geralt's hands on his hips, his fangs in the flesh of his neck, and his cock deep inside him. He slowly opened his eyes, anticipating with desire to see the golden eyes looking at him with as much adoration as during the night.

He frowned at the discovery of the other side of the bed empty. Something in his guts clenched as he posed a hand on the sheet. Cold. Geralt had been up for a while. He sat down and bit his lip when he discovered that all of the witcher's stuff was gone.

"Fuck."

He thought something strong had happened between them last night. That the way Geralt had made love to him had meant something. But it looked like he was wrong. His eyes burned, but he refused to cry. He knew there was nothing romantic to expect from the witcher, he had just fooled himself. Perhaps the wolf had a certain affection for him, but not Geralt.

He hesitated in choosing between lying down and getting up. Finally, he chose to get up, anyway, there was little chance that he would fall asleep again.

He dressed in old sweatpants and went out of his room. He jumped violently when he discovered Lambert in the living room.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked petulantly, a hand over his heart.

"The colonel asked us to wait until you wake up before taking you to Kaer Morhen. Your friend was attacked last night."

Jaskier's eyes widened in horror.

"What? Is she—Is she okay?"

The witcher nodded.

"Yeah, but she'll need a friend."

"Fuck."

Jaskier turned around and went back to his room to get dressed. He stopped in front of the bed and a small hope rose in his chest. Maybe something really happened between them last night. He stifled the awakening feeling. Priscilla needed him, he had no time to daydream about the witcher.


	19. Chapter 19

Lambert led Jaskier to Priscilla while Ciri went to find her father. Jaskier hadn't heard why, he had stopped listening as soon as she had spoken of Geralt. The young man didn't dare to give room for hope when the witcher had left him in the middle of the night, without a word, without explanation.

Priscilla was in a fairly impersonal room, probably some sort of breakroom. She was sitting on a sofa, tension paralyzing her body as Triss sat by her side, talking to her softly.

As soon as Lambert opened the door, Jaskier rushed to his friend. The tension left the young woman's body and she jumped to her feet before dropping into his arms and immediately beginning to sob.

"Oh, Gods! You're here!" she cried, "I thought I was going to die! Without Auckes, I would be dead!"

Jaskier hugged her tightly. She was trembling, shaking with sobs.

"I'm so sorry, Prisc'. It's all my fault," he whispered in her hair, "I’m so sorry."

She straightened abruptly and angrily glared at him, despite her tearful eyes.

"Don't!" she yelled. "You have nothing to do with it if a bastard decided that you weren’t allowed to have fun!"

A weak smile stretched the musician's lips.

"I love you, you know that?" he said softly before kissing her forehead and hugging her again.

For a long time, silence fell onto the room. Eventually, Triss stood up and smoothed down the fabric of her pants.

"Now that you're here, I can—"

Priscilla straightened up and pulled away from Jaskier.

"Tell me how Auckes is, please," she begged, "Jaskier, please, she doesn't want to tell me."

A sigh escaped the musician and he looked up at the witch.

"Please, Miss Merigold."

The redhead bit her lip. Auckes' condition wasn't alarming, but the injury he had received on face trying to save the young woman's life... But she couldn’t oppose Jaskier. His gaze had the same effect on her as Geralt. Instinctually, she tilted her head slightly to the side.

"He's in the infirmary. His injuries are serious, but not life-threatening."

Priscilla sighed, relieved.

"Can I see him?"

Triss shook her head, not to say no to the young woman’s request, but to free herself of Jaskier's gaze.

"Come on. But I have to warn you," she warned them, "it's not pretty."

They nodded. The witch sighed, shaking her head slightly again, then she walked past them and left the room.

Lambert, who had said nothing, followed suit, still in silence, surprised by the actions of Eskel's partner.

A few minutes later, they entered the infirmary. Jaskier's skin bristled with the presence of magic in the place. He tightened his grip on his friend's shoulders.

Triss stopped at a door.

"I don't know if he's awake, so I'll ask you not to make any noise."

Priscilla nodded and the witch opened the door.

The room was clear, like any hospital room. There was a bed, a chest of drawers and an armchair. The only difference was the spell visible above the man lying in the bed. A transparent, slightly bluish, bubble surrounded the witcher. He was awake and his only visible eye narrowed seeing the singer coming in.

He was wearing a bandage that covered half of his face and the young woman gasped before rushing at him.

"Oh! Gods! I'm so sorry," she breathed, stopping just at the edge of the bubble.

The witcher raised his hand and Priscilla's fingers closed over his. With a nod of his head, he invited her to sit next to him on the bed.

"Don't be. We bear our scars like other medals. They remind us of things that didn't kill us and those we saved."

He brought the young woman's fingers to his lips and placed a brief kiss on it.

Priscilla blushed and a smile lit up her face.

Sensing that something beautiful was blooming before his eyes, Jaskier drew back to the back of the room without a sound.

Lambert and Triss had stayed in the corridor. The witcher approached the witch.

"What happened earlier?" he asked, his voice low and his gaze fixed on the musician through the opened door. "I saw you bear your neck to him."

She remained silent, her eyes shining with intense introspection.

"I don't know. He… he feels like Geralt. I felt the urge to submit."

Lambert let out a sound, like a small bark.

"He smells like him too. But I see what you mean. The fact that they slept together strengthened their bond and the one we share with Geralt."

"Oh."

The witcher glanced at the witch and smiled as he saw her blush.

"Stay with him, I need to talk to Yennefer about it."

Lambert nodded. The witch had barely left when Jaskier came out of the room on tiptoes and closed the door behind him.

The sweet smile that had adorned Jaskier's face whilst watching Priscilla and the witcher flirting disappeared as soon as the door closed. He turned to Lambert, his gaze clouded with anger and a certain resignation.

"What's going to happen now?"

The witcher shook his head.

"The plan worked, you got the killer's attention. Now we're waiting for orders."

"Hm."

Lambert raised an amused eyebrow.

"Come on, you're going to take a shower and then we'll have a bite to eat."

"A shower?"

The witcher smiled, sarcastic.

"Everyone at the keep will know what happened between you and Geralt last night if you don't take a shower."

The musician's gaze lost its seriousness and an offended glow replaced it. Good, a sad Jaskier made him too uncomfortable.

He gestured to the door and Jaskier took the lead, a pout on his lips.

*

Geralt was positively furious.

Their plan was a success but he couldn’t rid his mind of the look of bliss that had adorned Jaskier's face as he’d reached the peak of pleasure last night and not knowing what the morning after would’ve been like without the aggression was driving him crazy. And being unable to focus on the case made him furious.

Eskel was explaining the possible characteristics of their killer on the basis of Auckes’ testimony and the DNA research by master Vigo.

"Stop," he growled.

All heads snapped to him.

"Geralt, we..."

"I don't care Esk'. I want every witcher without an assignment in the damn city tonight. Find the den of this damn beast and get your hands on his fucking uncle!"

Yennefer stood up, frowning.

"You realize we can't do that"

He glared at her.

"The killer must be furious right now! The attack on Auckes last night was an angry one. You heard him as well as I did! It’ll be a real bloodbath if we don't move right away. "

Vesemir watched his pupil carefully.

"You’re furious. Why?"

Geralt slammed his hands on his desk as he stood up abruptly.

"Of course I'm furious! It's  _ my _ mate he wants!"

Geralt calmed down as best he could when he felt his face and eyes change.

"Auckes told us that the beast is  _ not _ a regular werewolf. Double the size, faster, larger, meaner, cleverer. The other killings were carefully planned. Last night? Absolutely was not. We have no assurance that he won't begin to attack randomly during the nights."

Letho coughed to get the group’s attention.

"I agree with the colonel. The risk is high."

Sheala put a hand on his partner's arm.

"Do you really think so?"

He nodded.

Vesemir stood up.

"Alright, I’ll convince the Conseil that a large intervention is necessary."

The old witcher left the room.

Letho and Sheala got up too.

"I'm going to see this with the other section heads. We will find you the men you need. You’re going to owe me a hell of a favor."

Geralt scowled his assent.

The Viper and his witch left, too.

"Ciri, you stay here with Lambert. Don't take your eyes off Jaskier."

She nodded sharply.

"Yen..."

She waved.

"I know. You want the witches. I get it. We'll find Stregobor before the end of the evening."

Everyone left, finally leaving him alone. A deep sigh escaped him.

He needed to refocus before leaving for Novigrad. His mind was too busy with Jaskier for him to operate. He needed to forget the night they had shared, the link that buzzed in his chest. Damn, without even focusing he knew where Jaskier was at! The knowledge put his willpower to the test. He was at his home right now and it was hard not to run there, to take him in his arms and make love to him until he forgot who they were.

He didn't even have time to think about Jaskier showing the same demonstration of mutations as he did. It was important, even vital, but he didn't have the five fucking minutes to talk to Yen about it. He just had to hope that it wouldn't be a problem before the killer was finally captured.

He knelt on the ground and went into meditation, hoping that it would help him focus on his case.


	20. Chapter 20

Locked in the colonel's apartment, Jaskier was scratching his guitar, his mind elsewhere as he stared out the living room window. Music had always helped him clear his head and he needed it.

After eating breakfast at the mess, Lambert had led him to Geralt's apartment. He had expected to feel discomfort, being in Geralt’s home, but he didn’t. 

Ciri had come soon after, to chat for a few minutes with the witcher. Her tone had raised;the young woman had wanted him to accompany her somewhere, but Lambert had been adamant. He wouldn't leave his post, not without a direct order from Geralt. The young woman had left with a heavy exhale, muttering against psycho-rigid fools.

He and Jaskier had talked a bit, then watched TV before Ciri came back again. This time, there is no question of going somewhere. She had settled with them and had even wanted to cook lunch.

Jaskier was not stupid. He was locked in the apartment and the witcher and the witch were his kind jailers. He knew why. It was for his protection. But according to the plan, he should already be back in Novigrad. Maybe the attack on Priscilla had pushed the colonel to review his strategy. The new strategy was therefore to keep him locked up in Kaer Morhen while Geralt was preparing something else. It wouldn't have been a problem if Ciri hadn't been so nervous. Whatever Geralt's new idea was, it didn't please his daughter. And if his daughter didn't like it, it had to be a rather dangerous idea.

A sudden clamor came through the window. Jaskier turned his head, curious to know what was going on. The window overlooked the inner courtyard of the fortress. Although several floors above, the musician recognized Geralt's white hair, standing in front of a group of thirty or so witchers, lined up as if for a parade. All were donning their armor and weapons.

The colonel's powerful voice echoed through the now silent courtyard.

"You have been briefed on the creature we’re to hunt. Once in Novigrad, you will form teams of two and you will be distributed as follows: three teams on Temple Island, five in the outskirts, and the others on the island main. It’s a type-five creature! If you see it, do  _ not _ engage in combat. Follow it and immediately call for reinforcements. You will  _ not _ have the support of your witches so no unnecessary risk-taking. Break! "

The witchers punched their chest with their right fist and a resounding "Hail!" made the windows shake. Then three portals opened behind the hunters. Immediately they separated into three groups, eight on one side, six on the other, and the rest together.

Jaskier's eyes widened. It was practically an invading force that was going to sweep over Novigrad.

"What the fuck?" he whispered as he leaned out the window, fear rising in his chest.

Geralt had stayed behind his men, waiting for them all to pass through the portals, chatting with Triss.

"Geralt!" he called when Triss opened a portal too.

The witcher turned around and looked up at Jaskier. Their eyes met. Jaskier was too far away to see the golden eyes, but he felt their intensity on him.

Something warm swelled his chest before the witcher turned away, without a gesture or a word, and disappeared through the portal.

"Geralt!" Jaskier yelled, a bad feeling replacing the pleasant one that had invaded him a moment earlier.

He stayed a moment looking at the place where Geralt had disappeared. Then he suddenly turned to Lambert and Ciri.

"What is happening?" He demanded, his voice slightly distorted with magic. 

Ciri shivered under the magic wave that struck her. It was a slight, but a magic wave nevertheless. Her eyes narrowed at the musician.

"Are you a mage?" she asked, stunned.

"No, I'm not. Answer the damn question! What the fuck is going on?"

The witcher and the witch shivered together this time, the magic more present in the musician's voice.

"Da... Dad," stammered Ciri, who was trying to resist Jaskier's order, "wants to... end it tonight."

"What?"

“The hunt,” supplied Lambert. “He wants his prey tonight.” He hadn’t been in his colonel’s office, but he felt Geralt’s rage right in his core.

A shiver of fear shook Jaskier. He had seen the outcome of Auckes’ meeting with Valdo. Geralt may be stronger, but Auckes had fled and had had the assistance of his witch. Geralt had no intention of running away, he intended to confront Valdo and end it once and for all.

"Oh fuck," he sobbed, as he curled up on himself, terrified that Geralt would end up in a hospital bed or worse.

*

It was near dusk, when Geralt emerged from the portal, followed by Triss. She was one of the only mages present in Novigrad. Stregobor had been located in Cindras and the witch squad led by Yennefer should have arrived already.

He pressed his headset into his ear.

"Yen?"

"We’re in place."

"Be careful. I’m going to cut communication."

She didn't answer and he heard the characteristic click signaling the end of the communication.

He turned his eyes to Triss.

"Tell me where the damn dog lives."

She had them portaled to the Temple Isle. The intelligence services had cross-checked a certain amount of information and had given a list of possible locations for Valdo Marx's accommodation. A former soloist, in other words, a known face, didn't go unnoticed for a long time. He may not have had the popularity of TV or radio stars, but the Novigrad bourgeoisie knew who Valdo Marx was.

"We’ll start with a house not far from the Elector’s Square."

He nodded and started walking, all senses alert. With only Triss by his side, he wasn't disturbed by the distractions of his pack. He continued to feel Jaskier, but the sensation was muted, and he didn't pay attention to it. His mate was safe, far from Novigrad with two of the most trusted people with him.

"It's here," said Triss

It was a beautiful half-timber house with two floors.

"Open it."

A faint yellowish glow invaded her palm and the door clicked open beneath her hand. She pulled away quickly and Geralt burst into the house. A woman cried out when she saw him enter her house.

The witcher turned around without even apologizing and went out.

"The next."

They visited the first four addresses, without success. At the fifth, Geralt smelled the scent of his prey before Triss even had time to open the door. The smell of blood and wet animals.

"It's here."

As soon as they heard the noise of the latch give, Triss stepped aside. This time Geralt drew his silver sword before entering.

Behind him, he heard the witch inform the other teams that they had found the lair of their prey. She ordered them to stay in position for the time being.

The house was located at the corner of Saint Gregory's Bridge. Narrow and three-storied, it didn't attract attention. The interior was dark and the witcher knew that his prey wasn't in its nest.

"He's not here," he said, putting his sword back in its scabbard. "We’ll take a look and then I'll track him down."

"Be careful, there may be traps."

He nodded and walked around the room. There was a door certainly leading to a basement and a staircase leading upstairs. For the rest, the room was almost empty apart from a table, two chairs, a dresser, a stove, and a sink. The place was clean, but not to the standard of a well-paid musician.

Geralt chose to visit the floors before the basement.

At the first one, nothing notable. Two bedrooms and a bathroom. On the other floor, however… 

"Triss!"

Geralt's nostrils quivered in rage.

In the room he had just opened, there were photos of Jaskier pinned on the walls.

"Oh, Gods!" exclaimed the witch when she saw the room.

And on some of them, he could see himself with Jaskier during the previous evening, including one where he wedged the musician against the wall. Geralt snatched it away.

"Officer? We found the house of Novigrad's killer. Please send the units. Temple Island. Two doors to the left of Saint Gregory's Bridge."

Triss hung up.

"The Novigrad police’s sending us two units."

Having no answer, she approached her friend.

"Geralt?"

He turned suddenly and the young woman took a step back. His face was covered with black lines, down to his neck, and his eyes, obsidian, reflected an abysmal rage.

"I'll find him," he growled, with a low and gravelly voice. "Stay. Wait for the cops."

She didn't even have time to react as Geralt ran out of the room. She sighed heavily. Yen would kill her if she learned that she’d let the witcher leave her behind.

His headset filled with static before Letho's voice rose in her ear.

"We have a problem!" He was yelling.

"What's the matter?"

"Barghests! All over the city! What are we doing?"

Triss looked up at the ceiling.

"We're fighting! Geralt is tracking our prey."

"Copy!"

"Damn," swore the witch between her teeth when the communication ended.

She called Eskel.

"Esk', we need reinforcements. There are monsters all over the city and Geralt is on the hunt."

"I’ll send you what I can. Be careful."

She hung up and went downstairs. She had to secure access to the house.


	21. Chapter 21

The thrill of the hunt ran through Geralt's body. All of his senses were focused on his prey. He smelt it—the scent of blood and wet dog on the street and underneath it, there was that faint, sickening scent he had smelled on Valdo Marx. He had played with fire when he came to meet them at the market. It would be his last mistake.

Suddenly his senses were disturbed by a wave of magic. Then his nose and ears were overwhelmed by the smell of rotten flesh and the howling of hungry wolves

"Fuck," he growled, stopping.

He knew this smell well.

Barghests.

Geralt snarled. He drew his silver sword just in time for the first attack. Three monsters jumped on him at the same time; he was the first to be surprised by the speed with which he struck his first blow. A predatory smile flourished on his lips as he saw two heads on the ground. The third one growled and stepped back slowly before turning around and running away.

A roar escaped the witcher's throat and he chased the last monster. It didn't have time to get too far when Geralt's sword fell on it with rare violence.

Rid of the barghests, Geralt sniffed the air around him. He forced himself to ignore the smell of rotten flesh, searching for the scent of his prey. He went around in circles, a low menacing growl echoing in his chest, and he smirked when he caught it.

A powerful howl escaped his mouth, warning his prey that he was coming upon him.

He headed to the Hierarch Square and stopped at the sight in front of him. Several of his men were fighting monsters as people were running away, screaming, panicking.

"Colonel!"

Geralt's head snapped to Aiden, who was fighting a bunch of barghests alone. The witcher was already bleeding in several places, Geralt didn't have a choice. He had to help him. He fought with his men, but more and more barghests arrived in the square, trapping the witchers, preventing Geralt from finding his prey.

He howled again, catching each witcher’s attention.

"Protect civilians!" he shouted, "Barghest's number will decrease as soon as our partners defeat the mage!"

"Hail!"

With satisfaction, the colonel sensed his men's spirit rise. It was time to hunt Valdo again. With the chaos in the square, Geralt put his sword in his scabbard and jumped onto the first balcony within reach. In a few jumps, he was on the roof. He hissed when a flash of pain in his leg paralyzed him for a brief second. He was injured. Without waiting, he grabbed a bag of healing potion that he had in his armor. It would be enough for the fight to come.

Above the melee, he concentrated again, letting his senses extend around him. He caught it again.

A thrill of anticipation ran along his spine. The scent was headier than before. Valdo was here, somewhere around the square. Geralt took a deep breath and his head snapped to the east. The smirk on his lips showed off his longer fangs and he ran towards where the scent came from.

He caught the movement out of the corner of the eye, but he didn't have time to prepare himself for the impact.

The werewolf's shoulder took him by his chest, emptying the air from his lungs with the attack. The impact made Geralt fall off the roof and they fell to the ground amidst the other fights in the middle of the square.

Something cracked on impact and a sharp pain stabbed Geralt in the left shoulder. He stood up immediately, his teeth grinding in pain, and drew his sword, facing Valdo.

The other witchers moved away from the two fighters, as did the barghests who retreated with fear and respect from the werewolf.

"Colonel?" someone asked.

"Don't get involved." Geralt growled his eyes on his prey.

His blood was boiling and beating in his ears. Nothing was more important than killing the monster in front of him, the one who had been threatening Jaskier for far too long.

They roared at the same time and rushed toward each other, death written on their faces.

*

A sharp scream escaped Jaskier's lips.

"Fuck! What's going on?" Lambert groaned as he was rushing at the musician who had fallen on his knees, holding his head.

Ciri knelt beside the young man.

"Jaskier?"

Panic filtered through the young woman's voice. The musician was going around in the apartment like a caged lion since the departure of the witchers for Novigrad. He overwhelmed Ciri and Lambert with questions about the plan of attack that Geralt had fomented during the day, without answering Ciri's questions about the magic that he had deployed moments earlier, then he had felt on his knees, screaming.

The young man looked up and Ciri and Lambert backed away from him.

"Fuck!"

His face, dull with pain, was covered with black lines and his eyes were black obsidian.

"Jaskier! Jaskier!" called Ciri, panicked.

Black eyes landed on her and she swallowed. The musician was terrifying.

"Fuck!" Lambert repeated again as he took the young man by the shoulders.

"It's Geralt!" mumbled Jaskier, the presence of the witcher at his side seeming to anchor him in reality, as the violent emotions that Geralt was experiencing at the moment threatened to drive him mad. Never had he felt such rage, such hatred emanating from someone.

Tears clouded his eyes.

"He found Valdo." He was sure, only that could explain provoking such a reaction from the colonel.

"Come on," said Lambert, forcing him to get up and dragging him to the couch. "Do you feel him?"

Jaskier nodded.

"Yes... He... He's so mad," he whined, wiping his tears with his hands.

Ciri took a sharp breath. The story of the Blaviken's Butchery that his father had told her of earlier was still fresh in her memory. Was her father going to go crazy as the other witchers had? Were they going to have to kill him too?

Fear contracted the young woman's stomach.

Jaskier felt more than he saw the witch's distress.

He shook his head.

"He won’t lose his mind, he is just so furious… he's not going to snap."

It was hard to comfort Ciri as he felt all of Geralt's overwhelming feelings. He took deep breaths and ran a hand over his face. His gesture stopped. He felt something odd under his fingertips.

He gasped and ran to the bathroom. A scream echoed in the apartment as he took a look at his reflection.

"What's the fuck?"

Ciri appeared at the door.

"We were hoping you could tell us."

"How the fuck would I know why I look like your father?"

"I think I know how," said Lambert, looking at the young man over his partner's shoulder. "You slept with Geralt and somehow, your bond deepens. We felt it too."

"You felt it? Really?" asked Jaskier, confused.

"Yes, we do. All of us can feel the bond between you and Geralt."

"But the mutations?" whined Jaskier as he touched his newly formed features.

"Don't know. Sorry."

Ciri frowned.

"The magic, now the mutations? It may have had to do with the story of the White Wolf. You may be carrying in you the traces of the ancient blood and that had woke up in contact with Dad."

Jaskier shook his head.

"Impossible! Father–"

Severe stomach pain prevented Jaskier from continuing. His arms immediately surrounded his waist.

"Oh! Fuck," he groaned. "Geralt!"

Terror invades his whole being and for a brief moment, he’s lying on the ground, eyes riveted to the sky, and a stinging pain radiating from his body with each breath.

Jaskier blinked and he was back in the bathroom.

"He's dying," he whispered.

Something fierce, powerful bloomed in his chest and a scream escaped his throat without him being able to do anything about it. He closed his eyes under the power of the emotions running through him.

For a moment, he was in the silent room. The next moment, fighting raged around him. He opened his eyes to a world of chaos. Witchers were fighting monsters resembling glistening wolves and several meters in front of him, Geralt was on the ground, his stomach dropping blood, breathing harshly.

"Geralt," he huffed.

The witcher turned his head towards him and his black eyes widened.

A rumble drew Jaskier's attention to Valdo, or rather to the beast he'd become. The young man's heart missed a beat when the beast launched itself towards the witcher on the ground.

"Geralt!" He screamed as he rushed towards the witcher, not knowing what he could do to prevent Valdo from reaching him.

The same powerful something that had allowed Jaskier to travel to Novigrad in seconds crashed into Valdo as the musician screamed the name of the colonel with despair.

He didn't know what was going on but a brief sigh of relief escaped his mouth as one of the witchers turned out of his own fight to decapitate the werewolf on the ground.

Jaskier dropped to Geralt's side and took his face in his hands.

"Geralt! Please! Stay with me."

The witcher raised his hand and touched his companion's cheek.

"Mate."

Then he closed his eyes and his hand fell.

"Geralt," Jaskier called, shaking him lightly. "Geralt!" he screamed as the witcher didn't move at all anymore.


	22. Chapter 22

Jaskier didn't know how he ended up in the waiting room of Kaer Morhen’s infirmary. One moment, he had been screaming and crying over Geralt, and the next, he was sitting here, in this white-wall room, with Ciri sobbing and Lambert pacing with a soft, not stop, growl. He was looking at his hand, still covered in the witcher's blood.

Lieutenant-Colonel Eskel de Brün was the first to arrive, accompanied by an older and, obviously, equally worried witcher.

"Grandpa," Ciri exclaimed, throwing herself in the arms of the older one, who hugged her tightly.

Probably Geralt's father, Jaskier thought, looking away.

"What do we know?" Eskel asked quietly, as Lambert took refuge in his arms.

"Triss is operating on him. We are waiting for it to be finished."

His words were barely audible to Jaskier, Lambert had spoken into the other witcher's neck.

The young man felt like he was out of place. It was Geralt's family and he was the reason he was between life and death. He didn't move, preferring to be forgotten rather than attracting attention by getting up to go out.

The old witcher sat opposite him, Ciri still in his arms, her head firmly wedged under his chin and Eskel forced Lambert to sit too. The young man tried to resist, but the lieutenant-colonel didn't give him the opportunity. Then he crouched down in front of him, taking his hands between his. They both closed their eyes, giving Jaskier the impression that they were praying for Geralt.

Silent tears ran down his cheeks at the display of affection for the colonel. Jaskier wasn't sure that there would be as many people to worry about him if he had been in the place of the witcher. He closed his eyes too, and his forehead fell against his joined hands.

A skidding noise echoed in the corridor and a few moments later, Yennefer burst into the waiting room, disheveled and her face covered in soot and blood.

"Where is he?" she demanded, her purple gaze moving from one to the other, almost hysterical.

The beautiful and elegant Yennefer of Vengerberg, remembered Jaskier, who, even during an experiment, was dressed up and who seemed to come straight back from the battlefield.

"Oh! Gods! Aunt Yen, you're bleeding," Ciri exclaimed, leaping to her feet, her hands already glistening with magic to heal her.

The witch let herself be healed and then took the face of the girl in her hands.

"Do we have news about your father?"

Ciri shook her head and tears came back to cloud her beautiful green eyes. Yennefer took her in her arms and rocked her as if she were just a child, whispering soothing words in her hair.

It was too much for Jaskier.

Without a word, he left the room. He didn't feel entitled to impose his own pain on them, not while he was responsible.

"Boy."

A low voice, almost like Geralt's one, stopped him in the corridor. Jaskier winced, but stopped his steps, without however turning. He knew who was behind him and he didn't know how to deal with the colonel's father.

A large hand fell on his shoulder.

"Where do you think you are going?"

The voice was calm, almost emotionless.

"I... I need to get some fresh air."

"Don't lie, boy."

Jaskier looked over his shoulder in surprise. The old witcher looked at him without animosity, his eyebrows slightly frowning.

The young man swallowed.

"I... I have no right to be there," he whispered, lowering his head, "Geralt is in critical condition because of me. I—"

The old witcher shook his head.

"Come with me, boy."

The witcher took him outside the fortress, to the town. They walked in silence all the way. Jaskier didn't understand why they had left the fortress, but he didn't ask the question. He felt too bad to be making conversation.

They entered a house and the old witcher led him into the kitchen where he took two beers from the fridge. He put them on the table and looked at the musician, skeptical.

"Wash your hands, boy," the old witcher ordered when he was seated at the table, gesturing to the sink.

Jaskier obeyed without even trying to protest. Then he sat beside the witcher and drank quietly, waiting for the witcher to talk.

"What did my boy tell you about the bond you share?"

Jaskier turned to Geralt's father, surprised by the question. Rather, he expected to be asked about what had happened, what he had seen.

He took a deep, slightly shaky breath and told him what Geralt had told him as well as the guess Ciri had made after what they had discovered in the bathroom before everything went bad.

"Hm."

The corners of Jaskier's mouth rose slightly. He now knew from whom Geralt had adapted his monosyllabic responses.

"He's an idiot."

"What?"

The old witcher gave him an almost amused look and Jaskier frowned, red with shame. He had reacted immediately to the sudden surge of anger caused by the old witcher's comment.

"I said, my boy is an idiot. He never told you what that bond made him feel, did he?"

Jaskier shook his head and the witcher sighed heavily.

"He didn't say it was a soulmate-bond, did he?"

Jaskier's eyes widened and he choked on the beer he was drinking.

"What?"

A crooked smile stretched the witcher's lips.

"Well, I have my answer. So you know we behave more like wolves than humans?" Jaskier nodded. "Wolves mate for life, boy. It's rare when a wolf takes another mate after the death of its one. Geralt never had a mate. And with the all-story about the White Wolf and his Elder's mate, I assume that the bond you shared with Geralt is so much more powerful than the one Lambert or Eskel would have with their own mate. "

_ Mate. _

It was what Geralt had said to him before losing conscience.

"Oh fuck."

The witcher huffed.

"Yes, indeed. So, did you really think you don't have your place among us? And no, boy, you're not responsible for anything. You're a victim in this case, and you’ve actually saved my poor boy's ass. "

The old witcher finished his beer all at once.

"You love him, don't you?" asked the witcher when the bottle hit the table.

"Yes," answered Jaskier immediately. "I do."

The witcher nodded and stood up.

"Come on then, they’re waiting for us."

They went back to the waiting room and Jaskier was surprised to find himself with Ciri in his arms as soon as he stepped in the room.

"We're sorry," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

Jaskier hugged her.

"No need to be sorry," he murmured.

Tears clouded his eyes when he felt another’s arms behind him.

"Yes, we are," breathed Lambert against his neck. "You're family too."

A hand then rested on his neck. Jaskier looked up and his eyes widened in front of Eskel's amber ones.

"You're Geralt chosen one."

A smile, full of tears, bloomed on the musician's lips. He nodded and melted in the embrace.

"Don't count on me for a collective hug," exclaimed Yennefer, piercing sarcasm in her voice.

Ciri began to tremble in the musician's arms and suddenly, her clear laugh echoed in the heavy air. She disengaged from Jaskier's arms and went to get her aunt.

"No!" the witch tried to escape the girl.

But Ciri was as stubborn as her father. She grabbed her hand and dragged her to the three men who were waiting, surprised. With a muffled sigh, Yennefer found herself in the arms of the young woman, immediately surrounded by two witchers and a musician.

Her head found Jaskier's shoulder.

"They're right, songbird, you're Geralt chosen one, you're family," she whispered in his ear as if the witchers couldn't hear her.

They stood, arms intertwined, until Triss finally entered the room, exhausted. Everyone held their breath until a big smile lit up the redhead's features.

"He's okay. A new big scar on his chest, but he'll live."

Ciri shouted her relief, as Yennefer and Vesemir just smiled. Eskel went to take his partner in his arms and dragged her with him towards a seat.

Jaskier let the news wash away all his anxiety and fear and new tears ran down his cheeks. Lambert took him in his arms and let him use his shoulder as support.

"He's okay," he murmured as Jaskier whined softly, "he's okay."

With the good news made, everyone eventually went to bed. The night was well underway and each of them was now feeling all the fatigue from the stress that had caused Geralt's alarming state.

This time, Lambert didn't drag Jaskier into Geralt's apartment. He took him into his.

"I assumed you wouldn't want to be alone," he told him once in his living room.

The young man nodded as he let himself fall on the couch. Exhaustion took over him and Lambert chuckled as he heard him snoring slightly a few seconds later.

He shook his head, amused, and covered him with the blanket lying on an armchair before going to bed.


	23. Chapter 23

The first thing Geralt felt was the pain. A low groan rolled in his chest, and when he tried to move his hand, his limbs seemed to be heavier than normal. Confused, he took a deep breath. The bittersweet scent of magic told him he was in the infirmary, in Kaer Morhen. The apple pie scent was Ciri's and the musky cedar one was Lambert's. They were in the room with him. The faint hint of gooseberries and lilac and smoked fire informed him that Yennefer and Eskel had been in the room a moment ago. But it was the honey and earth scent which convinced him to open his eyes.

It was dark in the room. His pupils expanded to adjust to the lack of light and he smiled fondly at the sight in front of him. Ciri and Lambert were on the couch, asleep, the young woman in her partner's arms, and curled on a chair right beside him, Jaskier was asleep too, his hand extended toward the bed, his fingers tangled with his own.

He remembered well why he was here, injured, and his eyes focused on his mate. He had saved his life. With powerful magic. His fingers tightened around Jaskier's. Without him, he would be dead.

With a lot of effort and pain, he sat and took his mate's hand to his lips.

Fuck.

He loved him.

No matter what had brought them together, he couldn't think about a life without the musician anymore. Not after the absolute bliss they had shared that night, not after the terror he had felt when he had seen him on the battlefield. For an endless second, he had been terrified for Jaskier's life.

Geralt made a promise to himself: he'd do everything to bring happiness to his mate. Even disparaging from his life if that was that the young man wanted.

The sound of the door opening broke his thoughts and he turned his eyes to see Eskel enter. His brother had a smug smile on his lips, as he witnessed Geralt's display of affection towards the musician.

"You're finally awake," he whispered as he took a chair and took it to the bed's side. "You frightened us."

"Sorry."

Eskel sat and sighed deeply.

"You're an insufferable jerk. Trying to take our suspect by yourself? Really?"

The lieutenant-colonel was angry with his brother, but he knew better. Never Geralt would have taken such risk if it wasn't for his mate. He looked at the young man on the other side of the bed.

"You know, you're a lucky bastard," he continued as Geralt remained silent, "he's worth it. He's a good lad. Even Yen likes him."

Geralt smirked, thinking about his partner's difficult personality. He loved her, no question about that, but she was a bitch most of the time.

"I love him," breathed Geralt, bluntly.

Eskel raised an amused eyebrow.

"Yeah, we know. And he loves you too."

A faint blush colored Geralt's cheeks. His brother chuckled quietly but he lost his smile soon after.

"He's a mage. A powerful one."

Geralt nodded.

"I saw it. I suppose Yen’ll want to train him."

"Train and all. He seems to carry Ancient Blood."

The colonel winced. Ancient Blood? She'd to experiment on him. His inner wolf snorted in his mind, but he knew it was necessary. Jaskier's power was too wild, it needed to be tamed before it became a threat.

Eskel stood up and patted Geralt's shoulder.

"Sleep. You need it. For a minute, you died tonight, brother."

Something in Eskel's demeanor urged Geralt to move. He caught his brother's wrist and drew him in his arms.

"I'm alive," he breathed against his neck.

Eskel hid his face against his shoulder and something sounding like a sob escaped his chest.

"Fuck. I know. Don't do this again… Please."

"I can't promise. I'd sacrifice myself for any of you."

"And I too."

"I know."

They hugged for a long time, but eventually, Eskel stood up and let Geralt sleep for a few more hours.

*

The next time Geralt woke up, it was because of Jaskier's and Triss' voices.

"You need to rest too," she was whispering to the musician. "And not on this chair."

"I won't move until he'd awake."

The witch sighed loudly.

"Go eat something at last."

Geralt opened his eyes, looking at his mate and his friend. They were at the foot of the bed. Jaskier was shaking his head as Triss stood, annoyed by the young man's behavior. Despite what Eskel had told him last night, seeing for himself how his pack seemed to accept Jaskier filled his chest with happiness.

"He was awake last night. Eskel talked to him."

"Don't care, I'm not going anywhere."

"Alright! Do as you please. But don't come to me to complain after."

The witch turned on her heels and her features broke into a smile when she saw him awaken.

"Ah! Welcome back to the land of the living, Geralt!" she exclaimed as she went towards him and kissed his cheek without much ceremony. "Tell your mate he needs to eat and rest."

Geralt's smile fainted a bit as he looked at his mate. Jaskier's eyes were full of tears and the teasing words died in his throat.

"I will," he said instead.

"But..."

Geralt shook his head and the witch took the hint.

"Well, I'll check on you later."

As soon as Triss was out of the room, Jaskier lashed out at him.

"You almost died!" he yelled. "What were you thinking! Going to a damn fight without Yennefer! I almost lost you!"

Jaskier yelled at him for a long time, spilling all the fear he felt since the moment he crashed beside him in Novigrad. When he ran out of words, his cheeks were wet from tears and Geralt felt like the biggest asshole in the world.

He raised a hand to him.

"Come here," he whispered.

A broken whine escaped Jaskier's lips as he obeyed. As soon as his fingers touched his own, Geralt made him sit down beside him and his other hand found his place on the musician nape. He gently stroked the skin under his hands until Jaskier calmed down.

"I'm sorry," he said then, "but I would do it again if it means you're safe."

Jaskier opened his mouth to argue, but Geralt pulled him toward him and kissed him. The kiss was soft, almost chaste, loving.

"I love you," he breathed against his mate's lips. "I'll do anything to keep you safe and happy."

Jaskier's heart missed a beat at this sudden confession.

"I can't be happy if you died," he murmured before kissing him again.

Geralt smiled against his mate's lips. The words were like a love confession to his ears.

"Oh fuck!" they heard and they parted to see Ciri at the room's entrance, her cheeks all red. "I'm sorry! I'll come back later! Hey Dad," she babbled, embarrassed.

Geralt and Jaskier chuckled as the young woman turned on her heels and left without looking at any of them in the eyes.

*

Two weeks later, Geralt was kicked out of the hospital by Triss. He was at home, with everyone, waiting for Jaskier to come back with Ciri. Tonight, they would celebrate the end of the case and Geralt's recovery.

The musician had come back to Novigrad to take more of his things and had informed Mr. Vivaldi that he won't work for him anymore. In fact, Yennefer had cornered Jaskier a few days after the fight in Novigrad and had explained to him that he had to train his magic abilities. The young man had understood the gravity of it and hadn't made any fuss about it. It was decided he'd stay at Kaer Morhen for as long it would take for him to tame his power and Geralt had offered him to stay at his home.

The door opened.

"I hope you didn't drink all the beer!" exclaimed Ciri when she entered the kitchen, where Geralt, Lambert, and Vesemir were cooking.

"In the fridge," answered her dad, looking over her daughter's shoulder, searching for Jaskier.

"He's in the living room, Dad," she said, exasperated. "Like I'd leave him in Novigrad. You're a sap."

Geralt grunted as he put the knife he had in his hand on the kitchen counter and went out of the room to find his mate. He found him in the living room indeed, sitting on the armrest of the armchair where Yennefer was sitting. They were chatting with Triss, Tissaia, and Eskel, unaware of Geralt's gaze on them.

It felt so right to see the musician in his home, with his family.

"My love!" exclaimed Jaskier when he looked up. "How was your day?"

Geralt smiled fondly as he took the musician in his arms.

"Good. What were you talking about?" He asked after a quick kiss.

"I was talking about leaving the field," said Yennefer, to everyone's surprise.

"What?" choked the colonel, stunned.

The witch chuckled.

"You don't need me anymore, Geralt. Your songbird is a powerful wannabe mage and he'll be a perfect partner for you. I'll remain your partner for as long as it will take for him to tame his power and then I finally will be able to conduct my research without distraction. "

Geralt's golden eyes fell on his mate’s, still wrapped in his arms.

"Are you sure about this? Being a witcher's partner isn't an easy job."

"I know, but I'll be here each time you want to play the hero."

The fierce light in his mate's eyes awakened something hot in his guts. He lifted in his arms and kissed him fiercely.

"Get a room!" Eskel complained.

Everyone laughed as Jaskier blushed furiously and Geralt felt everyone happiness through the bond they shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end.  
> Thanks for all your comments and kudos, I am really happy you took the time to tell me you liked this story.
> 
> Until the next one, 
> 
> Noa


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